#Turns out Dragonborn don't sweat

[greyborn2]

Elisif headcanons now! (friendly tone ofc <3) Why do you think she would be a good marriage candidate? I'm curious :)

Yesssss!!! Okay - so this boils down to two categories. Personal interest in it, and underrated narrative JUICE. Starting with the former because its easier to begin with. So Elisif is just... she's neat. She's simultaneously one of the most politically important people in skyrim while also being COMPLETELY overshadowed by the men around her (Nobody talks about her, really, they talk of Torygg. The civil war isnt her vs ulfric, its TULLIUS vs ulfric. Her own decisions in court the first time we even see her are seemingly overruled on a dime by her own court, by Falk.). Its like she's this big thing of incredible importance and is constantly hidden away both in narrative and in game. But despite that, if you actually sneak in a bit, ignore all the big figures standing in front of her and propping themselves up on top of her, she has a surprising amount of meat to her.

Most of the Jarls are like... a few word summary at best. Greedy idiot boy, honourable honorman, paranoid bigot, old seer, etc etc etc. You get an initial impression of them and thats kinda it. Ulfric has a lot more, obviously, because he's a major character but it would *SEEM* that Elisif should be on the lower end of content. It takes so much to seek her out in her overshadowed little corner after all, but she has so so so much surprising stuff around her. The necromancer potema plot revolves around her, a whole big dialogue tree that isnt super common to see for a jarl, some touching personal quests that go into detail about how she saw her late husband. Its just all super compelling to me to have a character that, despite being so important, is *soooo* hidden away actually have some meat to her. Plus she's just a nice person!!! ANYWAYS!! PART 2!! The JUICE!!

For starters, I think, there should just be more opportunities for the dragonborn to play the political game if they want. Beyond just choosing a side in a war or ticking off their 'thane of everywhere' list, actually getting in on climbing the ladder and enmeshing oneself with the politics of the land they're in. BUT BUT... same can be said for Ulfric. Absolutely true. I do think he should also be a marriage candidate. BUT...

I think Elisif PARTICULARLY makes sense as a marriage opportunity that isn't one you seek out, but one that is put forward to the player. Specifically with an Imperial victory in the civil war.

The war is won. Alduin MAY or MAY NOT be slain. But either way, no matter what, at this point the dragonborn is a war hero, a champion of the people, and decorated imperial legate. And this would be fucking FRIGHTNING, I think, to the politicians back in Cyrodiil. There's a *history* of war hero dragonborns, popular with the people, turning on their commanders and declaring themselves emperor afterall. Oh boy is there a precedent. Suddenly they're the big figure in a war that was supposed to be Tullius' duty and they might start sweating in their boots a little.

SO... after the war is won... the legion starts... pushing. Just a little. A few letters, a few comments, that the dragonborn should maybe marry Elisif. Become High King by marriage. Lock them in and satisfy the war hero with a political title off in the ass end of the empire before they turn their gaze toward a ruby throne. Don't give them time to think on it. Ooooh look tasty treat right here shhhh dont think yes you did very good dragonborn yes yes be high king.

I think from there it could go one of three ways;

1) Last Dragonborn marries Elisif but with her actually agreeing to the union (after completing her personal quests) and she FINALLY steps out of the shadows. Rather than the expected you using her for power, she uses YOU for power. You allow yourself to be the thing she props herself up on and finally really starts coming into public view. Maybe to the nervousness of the Empire as she's a less eager puppet then they might have thought, now.

2) Last Dragonborn falls right into the trap the empire placed. You didnt do the quests for Elisif, she remains in the shadows, there's a loveless marriage and you get to be satisfied with a big title that hopefully keeps you occupied.

3) Last Dragonborn refuses all of this. Things seem to proceed as they do in canon but... well... maybe you notice a few more non-DB assassins using imperial weapons attacking you on the road then you did before. Curious.

[lanafofana]

WIP Wednesday

Thankies for the tag(s) @roguishcat and @marlowethebard 😘

You guessed it, more DurgexTav from me to your dash.

Tiny peek at the tielfing party!

He’s drunk. He must be, judging from the way his vision swims a bit when he turns his head to cast his gaze over the gaggle of dancing tieflings undulating in his peripheral.

The celebration has been raging for hours and he’s lost track of how much wine he’s consumed. Everytime he abandons his cup somewhere he finds himself draining another before he's even registered where it came from. He takes a steadying breath, the scent of woodsmoke, roast boar, and sour sweat heavy in the air.

The loose gaggle of musicians finish their song and start up another jaunty tune to the delight of the revelers. Scratch darts from person to person, tail moving so fast it's a wonder it's not propelling him to move faster.

Movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention and when Tav crosses his field of vision, a small tiefling child slung over her shoulder, he brightens considerably. Next to him, his companion sighs, bringing him up short. Right. Astarion. For the life of him he can't recall what they'd been talking about.

“Go on then,” the vampire drawls airly. When the dragonborn looks at him the rogue’s lip curls sardonically. “Though I must say, there’s really no accounting for taste.”

"Must you say?" The dragonborn focuses his glare on Astarion's red eyes, expression entirely too neutral to be trusted.

The rogue laughs, a lilting sound that easily carries over the sound of the flutes.

Taking an inelegant swig from the bottle he'd been nursing Astarion breaks the eye contact first. "Well? Don't let me keep you." He looks away and must find fresh quarry because he abruptly straightens and starts to saunter away, all cat like grace.

The Dark Urge follows his gaze and spies Wyll nabbing a bottle of wine and ducking out of the light of the torches. He snorts. “Don't drain anyone,” he quips as a parting shot.

“Hilarious,” Astarion mutters acidly behind the lip of his wine bottle but The Dark Urge is already moving, trailing after Tav's shadow as she weaves through camp.

[isamajor]

June of Doom : day 6 to 10

More @juneofdoom's drabble with Skyrim Custom-voiced Followers ! :D

6 . “They don’t care about you.”  

Lucien woke abruptly, drenched in sweat. Panic clawed at his chest to the realization of having been left alone here. What if they didn't come back? What if they saw this as a chance to leave him behind, a burden no longer? Trembling, he got out of his stone bed with great difficulty, throwing himsef on his research notes and clutching them like a lifeline.

"They wouldn't... they promised...", he whispered. The Dragonborn, Inigo and the others wouldn't abandon him, right?

"They won't come back, but I am here, Master Flavius." replied the metallic voice of Dumbzthar. (101)

•

7 . “What happened?”   

Nebarra stumbled through the camp, reeking of alcohol. His companions watched with growing worry as he swayed, clutching a nearly empty bottle. The memories of the War were haunting his every waking moment and every nightmare-filled sleep. He tried to drown them, but the liquor only fueled his isolation. A part of him has remained in the Alik'r desert, with the rotting corpses of his comrades and enemies under the blazing sun. He was lost in the past, in the screams and the blood and the relentless guilt.

"I don't need your pity.", he slurred, when he met Xelzaz's concerned gaze. (105)

•

8 . “This is your last chance.”   

Taliesin gasped for breath, tied tightly to a chair, water dripping from his hair and clothes. His heart pounded in his chest. Taliesin's intense fear of water made every moment the worst possible nightmare. The Thalmor torturer loomed over him.

“This is your last chance.”, the torturer hissed.

The chair was tilted back, submerging Taliesin's in the water. Panic surged through him as he struggled, the bindings cutting into his skin. Taliesin's screams were muffled by the water. Just as he was about to black out, he was pulled up.

"Talk." , the torturer demanded.

Trembling all over, he shook his head in refusal. (105)

•

9 . “I made a mistake.” 

They were surrounded by a horde of skeletons and the Dragonborn remembered that they had something that could be useful : as they unfolded the experimental scrolls provided by J'Zargo, a surge of excitement coursed through them. But relief turned to horror as the magical energy spiraled out of control, engulfing Inigo in the explosion. Writhing in agony, the khajiit's fur charred and skin blistered from the intense heat. Kaidan's eyes narrowed accusingly at the Dragonborn, his voice laced with anger.

"This is why we can't trust magic.", he spat harshly, as everyone rushed to Inigo's aid. (101)

•

10 . “Can you hear me?” 

The smell of smoke was acrid and overpowering. As the flames danced wildly in the pyre, smoke saturated the air, triggering a haunting memory for Auri. Frozen in place, her breath caught in her throat, she stared at the flames with wide eyes, as if without seeing them, lost in the suffocating grip of the past.

“Auri, can you hear me?”

Remiel's gentle touch shattered the horrible vision of the burning forest. Auri blinked, haggard, on the verge of tears. She threw herself into Remiel's arms who gently took her away from the source of what had rekindled her trauma. (100)

[umbracirrus]

Not just a WIP today, but a chapter update too! A little context for Elyse and Balgruuf's falling out... hehehe.

Alternative chapter title is 'Elyse keeps calling Jarls assholes, lots of clenched fists and teeth, Lydia is exasperated'.

------

Fic rating: E (for future content)

Fic relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Female Dragonborn

Chapter description:

Elyse, content with ignoring the Jarl of Windhelm's letters, gets told something by him that she most certainly cannot ignore.

Chapter excerpt:

Elyse could feel her pulse thumping in her ears as she waited for Balgruuf to finish with his current audience, trying to hold back her current… frustration? Irritation, perhaps? It didn't help that she felt trapped in a state of absolute disbelief over what she had not long read, because there was no way that he could have done that… could he? "Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention. I will have somebody look into the issue and get back to you as soon as reasonably possible," Balgruuf stated, drawing her out of her thoughts. He then rose from his throne as Irileth went to escort the visitor out of the palace, before turning to face her. "You have been standing around for a while now, Elyse. Is something the matter?" She blinked at him for a moment, now feeling her heart practically thudding against her chest as she flexed her fingers whilst repeatedly clenching them into her sweating palms. It took a moment for her to properly think of what to say, before starting out with simply answering his question. "Yes, Balgruuf. I-" She glanced around, before hearing the palace doors loudly fall shut behind the visitor. Silently, she closed her eyes, and inhaled through her nose. "I need to know if you have done something. Because… I-I don't know if what I have just been told is the truth or an attempt to stir trouble."

[catnatch]

okay so with all this au talk, the DnD college au is actually occupying most of my brain space. here's how it starts (LOTS more info under the cut):

Yosuke is a college first year and has had terrible luck doing the whole fresh start, make lots of friends (and get tons of babes) so far.... so while he doesn't like his suitemate Kubo too much, when Kubo wheedles him to join him for some dorm board game thing (so he doesn't look like too much like a creep going alone; and "it's not like YOU've got any plans on a Friday night, Hanamura") to get close to Yuki-chan- "and there are other hotties there!!" Yosuke doesn't protest TOO much. plus there's free food!

board game thing was actually a DnD session a couple of other first years are trying to put together. also in attendance are: Souji (the dm), Yukiko and Chie (they're already friends but don't know the rest of the group), Kanji, Naoto (Rise is there briefly (she's Naoto's girlfriend); she won't be joining but she wanted to steal Souji's cooking and catch up a little as she, Naoto and Souji are already friends- Naoto is the one to help convince Souji to put together this DnD recruitment, actually. Rise's very busy but she'll appear on occasion throughout the campaign when Souji begs her to play a dramatic bit parts for NPCs) and Ai just cos I feel like other people than the IT should join for a lil bit (she will make an excuse 20 minutes in "ohhhh something came up I'll be right back." she doesn't.) Mitsuo will not be returning after the first session after Yukiko flatly turns him down. Teddie is back home with Yosuke's parents since he's not college age yet and won't be a part of this at all, probably

first session is a little messy (the enthusiasm levels vary wildly among the players) but what hooks Yosuke and gets him to come back again is one of his off the wall ideas in combat actually worked and won them the battle and the dopamine he got from that is unmatched

what's the campaign look like: UHHHHHH i don't know but I have the vague idea it would somewhat mirror the events of p4- so instead of some world ending adventuring maybe the gang uncovers a serial murder plot? but more fantasy. and maybe the murderer's story is somehow tied to the NPC that Yosuke eventually falls in love with idk

the gang's characters!

Naoto already had their character planned out beforehand: an elf ranger ♂ (Souji had to talk them down from going into some super specific off-book combo to not scare off the newbies that hopefully would join). Yukiko, Chie, and Kanji had all actually read the recruitment flyer for this event so had a vague idea of their characters but haven't played a ttrpg before so just went with what appealed to them rather then how they play. Yukiko: tiefling warlock (and after she learned Naoto is x-gender she thought that sounded fun and made her character x-gender as well; Naoto thinks maybe they're being mocked but it's genuine on Yukiko's part). Chie: human monk ♀. Kanji: halfling cleric ♀. Yosuke had no idea what he was getting into so he's just going for what's Coolest. he considered being a super yolked warrior but nah... not even in make believe. But he could be an awesome stealthy ninja!! So he chooses rogue. as for race, he's not going to be an elf that's basically like being a fairy, right, and he's not... but he thinks they get cool bonus powers or something so he'll go with half-elf.

(Ai tried to be an elf princess but Souji gently maneuvered her to elf druid. Kubo went with the first things that caught his eye: dragonborn barbarian)

as for names, only Naoto came up with one already (Erawin <deeply into western high fantasy>); the rest of the gang workshops names at the table:

Yosuke: Jira (i'm not creative what do u want from me .)

Chie<sweating, desperately trying not to say her literal first thought > : her name is……uhhh… <gives up> Lee…

Yukiko just tries vague grunts to turn into a name (“Grgk!” “no” “Aaaht!” “no” “ERP!” “sounds like a belch” <yukiko laugh > “is that a name?? er- no” “Hrk!” “OKAY YES HRK YOU CAN BE HRK”)

Kanji: Usagi (it is for the reason you're thinking)

anyway the main meat of the au is an NPC appearing and then reoccurring throughout the campaign that Yosuke's character forms a natural rapport with... Souji picks up on this and fleshes out the NPC beyond what was a throw away background character. the gang try to do their DnD sessions every week for at least a couple hours, but it still takes them weeks and weeks to get through what Souji planned. since it's so gradual, Yosuke doesn't notice when their characters' banter turned from playful to outright flirtatious...

and he swears he's not like THAT but he can't help getting so genuinely upset when he dies* in Jira's arms and Yosuke can't separate character from person when he hears Souji's voice tells him before he dies that he- he loves--

*temporarily; I'm not a monster

[caelumangeli]

*Sender stabs Receiver non-fatally as a warning.

Sunder has never cared for knives, not when his warhammer caves skulls as easily as popping soap bubbles- but sometimes even this hulking dragonborn feels the need for more delicate measures.

The elf had stolen from him, and while Sunder has certainly never minded looting the dead- he is still very much alive, and this little rat has crossed a line. The pale scales of the dragonborn has intent written across his face.

It's clear that he's terrified of the massive barbarian, but that only brings Sunder more satisfaction as he corrals him into the alley's dead end. The dragonborn is grinning at him, horned brow aimed low to make eye contact with the shorter elf. His teeth are exposed, fang like and wicked, layered over one another nearly like a shark.

Sunder brandishes the knife as he approaches, but stops short of the thief when he presses his back against the stoney wall. Being in the outskirts of the city, the guard presence is less here- not that the dragonborn is all that worried about being arrested.

"How 'bout you cough up what's mine, and the rest of your scores for today; maybe I won't gut you for touching my coin."

@hierophants-hourglass {Ask Box Memes}

Jesse was far from comfortable. He hardly felt at ease as he was out with the party, much less so at the camp itself. Sure, it was better and managable when he was with others. Like having more people around meant he had a bigger safety net. Something to hide behind, someone to help him or protect him. It was always easiest for him when he was able to sucker up to the strongest or most influential, and pretty much be fine or even get off nearly scott free. Unfortunately their.. camp setting made it a little more difficult to accomplish that.

The strongest person could easily be a tie between 2-3 people, the ones he thought most influential weren't exaactly utilizing that with their campmates, but the one who clearly established himself as the most dangerous or unstable was by no means an option of someone to get close to in Jesse's books. He was insane. Huge, incredibly strong, unpredicable(where as most likely, something bloody and violent was to occur, and it was more surprising when he wasn't about that). The only thing he was sure he could probably talk that thing into was some bloody form of murder that would make Jesse want to throwup upon sight. That, unfortunately, didn't seem to stop Jesse's kleptic tendancies, as often he didn't even realize he was doing it.

So he was caught quite off guard after he found himself casually ushered into the back alley after having tried to ease his tensions with a few off hand comments and jokes. He didn't realize he would have been so bothered by his comments. But making awkward jokes while he tried his best to stand still and not make his fear shown was the only thing he really knew what to do in this case.

"-Uhhahh I-if you w-wanted to get me alone I'm sure there-there's cleaner places we uh we- could've..." He said, voice an octive higher than usual as his head turned back quickly to glance behind him and back infront of him again. Despite his attempt at brushing the action off as some kind of suggestive joke or something, his heartrate spiked, body shaking in fear as he found himself backed against a wall, his hands feeling behind him to feel nothing but solid stone all around-fuck- no place to escape to either. Jesse swallowed as bits of hair now drenched in sweat from the heat of the sun, armour, and the mini Dragon most threateningly towering over him.-Scratch that. Literally threatening him and towering over him.

"I- I don't- I didn't--" He stammered as his shaking hands rushing to grab from his pouch. "I- It's just- it's just this I swear I didn't- I'm not trying to- just- l-let's p-put down the knife and think for a minute."

[ratofthemedievalsewers]

The Fire I Breathe Shall Burn You Too - Part I

*NOTE: YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW ANYTHING OF SKYRIM FOR THIS WORK - Any lore will be explained within the story itself, you don't need to know any details of Skyrim.

This work was inspired by @fanficsforheartandsoul who wrote a brilliant Dragonborn Reader work, definitely worth checking out!

*****

Geralt of Rivia x Male, Dragonborn Reader

THE COMPLETE WORK

Word Count: 3.4K words

Warnings: Canon Typical Witcher Gore

The Dragonborn was forced to kneel, like the prisoner he was, in front of the crowd that had been gathered behind the Emperor's son. The winds of Skyrim were harsh against the thin cloth he had been forced to wear at his "trial" and the cold penetrated his skin, chilling deep into bones. The snow beneath his knees soaked into the scratchy fabric of his trousers, the hard stone he rested upon causing his joints to lock up and ache.

He refused to let them see him shiver, he refused to show any weakness against the people that had chained and muzzled him.

The iron shackles upon Y/N's wrists made them burn as the metal was too tight and dug into his skin, the cold further enhancing the pain of the irritation. The muzzling forcing his jaw shut cut into the bridge of his nose, harshly crushing down on his cheekbones, he could feel the bruises forming, outlining the cage over his mouth.

All that he had built and rebuilt, everything that he had discovered, founded and collected was now either tarnished or burnt to ash if it held no use for the greedy Emperor's son. Y/N had come to Skyrim with nothing to his name, not even the memories of his life before arriving at the chopping block of Helgen all those years ago.

The Dragonborn arrived with nothing, so it was only fitting that he left with nothing also.

The Emperor's son stepped forward, adorned in fine, bold robes and thick furs to shield him from the cruel snows of Skyrim. The polished gold of his jewelled necklace shone in the glaring sun; Y/N recognised it as one of the first of many gifted treasures from the people he had saved when he first set out on his campaign.

He had twisted into a different man during the war. The Dragonborn had become a shadow of Alduin, the Eater of Worlds, the Great Dragon who had ravaged these lands. The same dragon Y/N slaughtered in glory for these people who so quickly turned against him.

The Dragonborn did not blame the people for their betrayal, but his hatred for the Empire and the Emperor's son still burned hot.

"As the rightful Emperor and ruler of these lands, I cast you out. The Dragonborn shall face exile for his crimes against the empire and the people of Skyrim. With the magic brought to us by the College of Winterhold, you are to be banished!"

At the announcement, a small group of college mages stepped forward in a circle around Y/N, whispering a chorus between them and lifting their arms towards him. The light was blinding as the doorway to another land opened up in front of him, the swirling azure tones were nauseating as they twisted and turned in a jagged spiral shape. The mages chanted louder behind him, their voices rising as the portal grew in size until it began to consume Y/N.

"Never return to Skyrim, or you will face pain worse than hell." The son of the Emperor whispered this into the ear of the Dragonborn, needing to bend down only slightly to reach his level. Y/N could not spit back a response, the metal over his mouth preventing him from speaking. His Thu'um, his voice, burned in the pit of his chest, for the power of his rage to rip these people apart for their disloyalty.

The dragon inside Y/N screamed.

As the mages reached the end of their verse the portal consumed the Dragonborn. He could do nothing but stare, with a deep loathing, at the man who had exiled him from the land he had fought so hard to rule for himself.

*****

The tavern was loud and stunk of ale and sweat. It seemed every inn across the lands, not just this one, exuded the same overwhelming stench of drunkards and gambling fools. Y/N sat alone at one of the corner tables, hidden away in the darker area near the bar. He just listened; entertaining himself with the coloured tales that came out of drunken men's mouths, stories of beautiful women and fictitious hunts. Still, it was amusing nonetheless.

The people of this village were kinder than most, their only fault was that they were so close-knit; one of the smaller but still tiresome issues of being a traveller that wished to go unnoticed. In villages like these word spreads fast about newcomers, causing rumours to quickly sprout that can garner unwanted attention. It wouldn't be long before Y/N would have to move on again.

The mead sat untouched in front of him, his hand not even reaching for the handle since the barmaid had placed it on the table in front of him. The drink here was bordering on water compared to that of the Black-Briar Meadery back in Riften.

An eerie silence fell upon the tavern as the door opened and a large, broad-shouldered man entered. He was adorned in studded, black leather light-armour, with two swords resting on his back. One seemed to be made of iron, with a bronzer tone to the metal, while the other was a silver, a blueish shimmer to the finish of the blade. Around his neck sat a medallion of a wolf, with the back of the chain disappearing into the white of his hair that was discoloured by dirt and grime.

He had a dark look upon his features, evidently unsettling the villagers in his immediate presence. The cause for his annoyance appeared to follow behind him as he stepped further into the tavern, a younger-looking bard wearing much more comfortable clothing seemed to be talking and had been talking for quite a while.

"Oh come now Geralt, all I'm asking for is a little bit more of a share. After all, I am the one who's bringing these little jobs of yours in. Without me, no one would know of the Great Witcher, Geralt of Rivia." The bard seemed to speak, regardless of his company's irritated glare. He spoke mostly with his hands and posture, asserting a word with the flare of his hand or a wave of his whole upper torso.

"One room and for someone to care for my horse," The taller man, which Y/N figured to be Geralt, threw a moderately sized cloth pouch of gold onto the bar top, the coins making a flat 'clunk' sound once they hit the wood. "And a tankard of ale."

The barmaid gave a sheepish nod towards the man, not saying a word as she grabbed a clean flagon and began to fill it from one of the large, wooden barrels behind her. She gingerly placed it in front of Geralt, quickly excusing herself to attend to another table, looking behind her with her eyebrows knitted together in an unreadable emotion.

The bard went to reach for the flagon, but it was quickly swept away by the other man, some liquid sloshing over the rim and dripping onto his fingers with the force.

"Get your own," Despite his harsh scowl and words, there was no actual animosity towards the bard.

"I would, but it's hard to buy things when you have no money, Geralt!" The cadence of the bard's voice rose as he reached the end of his sentence and he crossed his arms over his chest, responding to Geralt's stare with one of his own.

The Witcher rolled his eyes and brought the drink to his lips, stopping for a moment and letting his eyes scan the room. Y/N ducked his head for a moment, finally bringing the tankard to his lips in an effort to hide his face as Geralt's gaze passed over his dingy little corner table.

"What's up?" The bard spoke, the playful tone no longer there.

Geralt paused for another moment, before turning back to face the bar again. "Nothing," even with the monotonicity of his voice, his uncertainty was clear. The bard took a look around the tavern for himself, a clearly puzzled look on his own face.

"Witcher?" A group of the local men had stood from their table and made their way to Geralt. The leader of the squad held his cap in his hands just in front of his stomach, fiddling with the material out of nerves. "We need your services."

Geralt turned to face the group of villagers fully, still holding the flagon in his right hand, as his elbow rested against the bar and held his weight. He raised an eyebrow when the leader of the group didn't continue but instead scrunched up his hat more in obvious discomfort.

Another villager to his left stepped forward. "A kikimore... There's a kikimore terrorising the eastern side of the village. They live closest to the woods bordering us... we've not been able to hunt for days and the farmers daren't tend to their fields."

"Are you sure it's a kikimore? There are no bog lands or swamps surrounding the area, it would be far from its comfort zone." Geralt stood to attention now, taking a final swig of his drink, before placing the empty container back on the bar.

"Do you take us for fools Witcher? We know what has been plaguing us." The villager stops for a moment, bowing his head and facing towards the ground, collecting himself with a breath. "There was a small effort but a night ago, some of our younger men grew tired of the beast's torment and attempted to claim its life for themselves. They did not make it. We heard their screams that night... and when the sun rose we saw the trails of blood leading back to the forest." He placed a hand on the leader's shoulder and squeezed it gently, "His son... was one of them."

"Will you help us, Witcher?" The barmaid spoke up from behind the group, placing a hand of her own on the leader's other shoulder in a sign of comfort for the teary-eyed man. "We have coin."

Geralt considered for a moment, before stepping forward, now standing a mere metre away from the group. "I'll take payment after."

The door to the tavern swung shut with a loud 'THUD' and from outside a horse let out a shout before its hooves we're heard hastily moving away from the tavern. The table where Y/N had sat now lay empty, save for a tankard of untouched mead and a few coins to pay for the drink.

*****

The Kikimore shrieked with a wailing cry as Y/N swung his sword at one of its eight, spindly legs once more. Dodging when it countered his attack and made a strike of its own.

The Dragonborn had seen many foul looking beasts in his time, but this was certainly one of the more grotesque. Even the necrotic flesh of the draugr or the disfigured forms of the seekers, in the realm of Apocrypha, were tough competitors.

It cried out again as Y/N turned on his heel and made a hard slash at one of its left legs, cutting the limb from the rest on its body. The beast stumbled backwards with the lack of extra support; with a sense of desperation, it made one last final charge at the dragon born, throwing its whole weight at him as it surged forward.

Y/N took his chance, leaping above the kikimore and driving his sword down into the top of its head, slicing through the bone of its skull and the much softer tissue of its brain. With the weapon still buried in the creature, he held on as it fell to the floor, kicking up the loose, moist dirt of the ground and splattering Y/N's leather armour.

It had been a while since the Dragonborn had killed something more than a pheasant or a deer, something that could fight back, something that made his blood pump through his veins and his body ache with the sudden exertion. It felt good to fight again; the blood staining the blade of his sword, dripping down, onto his fingers when he observed the red liquid in the light shining through the gaps in the forest canopy.

The dragon inside him let out a content sigh at the smell of the fallen kikimore's blood.

"WOW!" Y/N spun and held up his sword at the sudden sound, the tip of his blade pointing towards the bard from the tavern, his not as impressed companion close behind. "Now THAT was awesome. Did you see him Geralt?" The Witcher let out a grunt.

"You were from the tavern," Geralt spoke as Y/N lowered his weapon, pointing the blade towards the ground as he kept his eyes focused on Geralt. A smile tugged at his lips.

"Sorry for taking your kill... you can take the payment for it, I'm not interested in the coin." The Dragonborn made his way closer to the pair, watching the Witcher for a reaction that told him he was getting too close. "Your eyes... what is a Witcher?"

The bard beside them let out a small gasp, "does no one appreciate my music these days? You never heard 'toss a coin to your Witcher?'"

"A few too many times, to be honest, every bard across this land seems to sing it. Granted, it's better than some of the ballads we had back home- I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Y/N turned to the bard.

"Jaskier, the greatest artist in all of the land at your service. In fact..." The bard clears his throat and steps forward, one arm behind his back and the other with his hand placed on the centre of his chest, "allow me to be the first, humble stranger, to write you a ballad of your own detailing all of your glorious-"

"You're wounded," Geralt interrupted Jaskier; the bard, in turn, dropped his arms in a defeated huff with an offended frown now plastered on his face.

Y/N looked down to his right shoulder where Geralt was staring, fresh blood slowly oozing from the small gash. "It's nothing, I'll treat it when I get back to the inn."

"It'll get infected... here," Geralt pulled a small glass jar filled with a thick, pale yellow liquid.

"Oh, so you offer your fancy healing solutions to the new guy, but never to me," Jaskier commented from the side of the two of them.

Y/N didn't take the potion, instead, he looked at it in Geralt's hands distrustfully. The other took the cork from the top of the potion, the action making a small 'pop' sound, and took a small sip from the potion for himself first, to prove it was safe to drink.

"It's called swallow, it'll help heal your wound and prevent infection." After another moment Y/N took the small bottle and brought it to his lips, smelling the potion first.

"Swallow? Couldn't have thought of a better name?" The Dragonborn tipped back his head as he drank the potion, pulling a face at the rather disturbing taste.

"It doesn't need a fancy name."

"The instructions are the name... Is everything about you so straightforward?"

"Is everything about you so mysterious?" Geralt bit back, a challenging glint to his eyes. Y/N matched the look, pushing back with his own scrutiny.

The back and forth gaze was broken when Jaskier spoke up again, oblivious to the mental battle between the two men. "That is quite a good point actually, what even is your name?"

"Y/N."

"Just Y/N... no title or anything?"

"Just Y/N."

"Your accent... you're not from here," Geralt crossed his arms over his chest, still watching Y/N like he was studying a new beast.

The Dragonborn let out a quick breath and smiled, his head slightly bowed to the forest floor. "No, I'm not. I'm from a land much further north."

"Why come here?"

Y/N shrugged for a moment, knitting his eyebrows as he tried to think of a good reason. "I'll have to come back to you on that one," he moved to untie his white mare from a tree close by, stroking at their broad neck as he guided them into a more open area and mounted the saddle. "When we next meet... I'll let you know."

*****

The tracks of the kikimore Y/N had killed were old, but still clear enough that a trained eye could follow them to the bog it had come from. It stunk, to say the least. The mix of rotting detritus, saturate mud and animal faeces left his eyes watering. moving through the stagnant puddles of water kicked up the smell further.

Through his teary gaze, he saw a familiar hulking figure. His white hair was striking against the dull shades of brown and grey. He hadn't acknowledged Y/N, that is if he knew he was there at all, even on his own the Witcher was still tensed, his shoulders hunched in a defensive position.

"Has it been bugging you too?" Y/N was the first to speak up as he came behind Geralt, the other seeming to jump at his voice, a hand on the hilt of his sword as he spun.

"Not many can sneak up on me... but yes." His hand fell back to his side, but he didn't take his gaze away from the other man.

"When I found the kikimore it seemed skittish, something that seemed foreign for a creature that looked like that. It was like its whole world had been knocked on its side." Y/N brushed his hands against the claw markings Geralt had been staring at in one of the larger cottonwood trees; there were two gashes, one significantly deeper and thicker than the first. The Dragonborn furrowed his brows at the familiar sight. "We do not have kikimore where I'm from, am I right in thinking it was strange?"

"Yes, Kikimores are usually dominant creatures," Geralt watched as Y/N traced the gashes with his index and middle finger. "You never exactly told us where you're from."

Y/N dropped his hand back to his side and turned to Geralt with a somewhat melancholy smile. "That's the thing... I don't actually know where I'm from, I just remember waking up... Not here... a place called Skyrim... Have you heard of it?"

"Can't say I have."

"I guessed. The land is encased in high, snowy mountains in most directions and the rivers which one could sail through is frozen over for most of the year. Skyrim itself is gloomy, with the only actual colour being that of blood either from the civil war, bandits or some human sacrifice to one of the nine divines. Not many people would want to go there if they've even heard of it to begin with."

"I can see why you left."

Y/N huffed a small laugh, "Even with all of its flaws, it was still home. I can't say this shit hole is any better."

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they searched further. The only sounds of the swamp were the rustling leaves of the canopy and the squelching of soaked mud beneath the pair's boots.

"Look here." Geralt called over, crouching down over a large footprint. It had three long lines pointing forward from a rounded, triangular base, a smaller, thicker line pointing in the opposite direction from the point. There were deep holes at the foot of each line, clearly large talons. "It looks like a dragon's print... but the size... I've never seen one this big."

Y/N crouched down beside Geralt, his hand hovering over the print. "An Elder Dragon... she's a long way from home..."

"She?"

"Her claws... on a female, the middle claw is usually longer while a male's are often even in length."

Geralt grunted, "We do not have elder dragons here. How would it of made it here without anyone seeing it?"

"It must be from Skyrim. Dragons, where I'm from, are intelligent... but an Elder Dragon's sheer size... I don't know it could have gotten here without being noticed." The Dragonborn's eyebrows furrowed once more as his head was filled with questions he couldn't answer. "We must find her, Skyrim was plagued with dragons. Despite their intelligence, they still do not think twice when it comes to destruction."

"I'm sorry, we?"

"Yes... we. I can take the dragon on myself, I don't need your help with that. But I have little knowledge of this land and considering you're here looking at mud I take it you have nothing better to do?" Y/N didn't give Geralt more than a second to respond before speaking again. "Great, I heard you take payment after?"

[housamodrabbles]

Shino [2]

Scenario: You and Shino are spending some time together when someone interrupts. Shino is not pleased.

Ah, Valentines Day. The day where anything and anyone expresses their care and love through the giving of chocolate to one another. Or, if you hate the sweets, then you could simply spend time with your loved one with maybe some tea or eat at a picnic. A day indeed.

For all his rough and tough attitude, Shino can enjoy the good aspects of this day, since it gives him an excuse to be a bit more affectionate than usual without it being too out of place. A transient like him, who'd spent his days cutting off heads, has had to attend his fair share of events and has made it a point to celebrate these days with his companion when he can. He couldn't bring them the rich home life they were so used to, but the least he could do was give them some semblance of tradition.

Maybe that's why he gets so sappy on happy days like this? Well, had he not known your existence, those days would've been torture to get through, but you're here, alive, healthy for the most part, and much happier than way back when. This fuzziness, the warmth that spreads until his fur becomes matted to his skin, Shino wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

Now if only that arrogant dragonborn therian could leave you alone.

"My darling spouse! The brightness of the sun could not compare to the beauty you radiate on this Valentines Day!" And as usual, he loudly sings his praises about you every time the two of you meet, ignoring Shino as though he's nothing more than an ornament tagging behind you. "Of course, it's only natural I would be able to spot you, no matter how far away you are. And you have done well to be patient with me. Now, come into my arms!"

While he may have said that, Ophion went on ahead and wrapped his arms around you anyways. With his huge size, it was quite easy for him to sweep you off your feet, twirling about until he settled you down on the ground with his back directly on Shino. Said transient knew for sure that this egotistical dragon did this on purpose. Acknowledging you while acting as if he was nothing more than a fly.

"Haha...nice to meet you too, Ophion." Rather than being disgusted or unnerved, you're more surprised than anything else. Normally, Ophion is out and about giving orders and clearing out territories for the continued success of the guild, but here he is, roaming about as if he just taking a break. The hugs he gives aren't a new thing, so you've learned to appreciate it since it feels nice.

The glares Shino was sending to the dragonborn's back leave not so much as a twitch. Ophion might not be able to see it, but you certainly can. As funny as the expression is on his face, you don't exactly want to give the poor man a heart attack when it's meant to be a relaxing day for the both of you.

You tapped on Ophion's forearm, and he had the manners to let you go. "Hmm? My spouse, is there something wrong?"

You shook your head and actually find yourself sweating when you caught a gleam of Shino's sword. Instinctively, you called out to your partner, "Shino."

Shino, upon hearing your voice, resheathed his sword and put on a carefully blank face, acting as if he wasn't about to chop something off. It was quite the good timing as well, since Ophion turned around to glance at the beast descendant, but that's all he spared him before refocusing on you. "Ah, is that the name of the one accompanying you? I suppose it was rude of me to interrupt your rendezvous. However, my spouse, I must ask that after this, you must spare me some of your time. I wish to continue bathing you in all my love." He nuzzled against you, opened his wings, and took off the skies.

The powerful winds almost buffed you back, but you held your ground. Still, though, Shino took it upon himself to grab at your elbow and steady you. You smiled and thank him, grabbing his hand all the while. "Well? Shall we continue?"

Shino, while ashamed at the face you had to see, felt grateful at the fact he could have you all to himself at this very moment.

[isamajor]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 6 to 10

6 . Dizzyness

A sort of dizziness greeted the Dragonborn as they climbed the ruined tower. With each laborious step, dizziness seized them more and more. They swallowed heavily, struggling to keep their balance on the worm-eaten wooden staircase. The bandits must have stashed their loot up there. That's what they always did.

At the top of the tower, the wind blew violently, threatening to send them flying below. At the foot, their companions shouted at them to go back down. Sweat beaded on their forehead. They felt their legs weaken, and the Dragonborn collapsed onto the chest in front of him. (101)

7 . Hesitation

Lucien hesitated, staring blankly at the snarling bandit. Magic hummed between his fingers, ready to strike if necessary. Yet, taking a human life seemed abhorrent, something foreign to his sheltered existence. The fight was raging around him and he had seen the Dragonborn plant his sword more than once in the steaming entrails of their attackers. Yet, time seemed frozen, suspended between hesitation and action. The bandit's blade came dangerously close to his blue eyes. His body instinctively cast the ice spell. This survival instinct, which was unknown to him until then, did not hesitate. (96)

8 . Bloodshot

The Jarl had asked their small group to eradicate the vampires from Shriekwind Bastion in exchange for a gold reward. The Dragonborn had come out with many scratches but had not paid attention to them before the illness broke out. There was no doubt about their bloodshot eyes and their hypersensitivity to daylight. They have the Sanguinare Vampiris. The Dragonborn turned their bloody eyes away, unable to meet the gaze of their companions. If they don't find a cure, then in three days they will become a vampire, a predator, a nuisance just to be put down. (98)

9 . Self-doubt

Tormented by the magnitude of the task, the Dragonborn questioned their objective. Could they really end this catastrophic cycle and kill Alduin, the Devourer of Worlds? It seemed insurmountable and doubt sank deep within them. They didn't have faith in their abilities. They felt like a bandit's stray arrow could kill them, and dash whatever hopes the people of Skyrim might have had in them. The fact that everything weighted on their shoulders, and that they were the only one who could defeat Alduin made them feel anguished and insecure.

What if the prophecies were wrong? (98)

10 . Adrenaline

The shadow passed over him and the dragon landed. Taliesin had no time to think and charged. His footsteps echoed to the rhythm of his heart. His bones echoed with the sound of the beast's cry. With Berwhale in hand, he was ready to carve into the scales of the giant lizard. The adrenaline made him forget his fatigue and the pain in his muscles. The Mer was focused on his immediate survival and the threat that stood before him. Fleeing was not an option. He had to fight, his breathing was ragged, but his body knew there would be no rest until victory. (105)