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ladydaedra · 4 years ago

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Road to War

Part: 5/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC; Ondolemar x OC

Summary: After leaving Windhelm, the group travel to the headquarters of Ayla’s rebellion.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of ‘Game of Thrones’ feeling; May contain controversial themes.

Wordcount: 1921

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Xaliyah sits atop of her dark brown stallion, Caper, as they navigate the road through the Pale. She brushes a strand of her hair out of her face and glances over at Brynjolf, who sits atop his palomino horse. She quickly looks away when he begins turning his head towards her. Instead, she focuses on the road ahead and at the signs of another snowstorm.

"Should we make camp?" Xaliyah suggests, looking over at Ayla who is on her black stallion, Paladin she named him. The Dragonborn glances up at the sky before replying.

"We have a few hours of daylight left and the storm will most likely miss us," she explains, giving Xaliyah a quick glance over her shoulder, "the base isn't far from here anyway. We might make it in time,"

"What exactly is this base you speak of?" Brynjolf questions from beside Xaliyah, staring ahead at the two in front of them, "is it a cluster of tents or a hut in the woods?"

Kharjo lets out a laugh as he rides is painted mare, "a group of tents or a hut couldn't hold an entire rebellion," he explains with another chuckle, "do you think Ulfric Stormcloak or General Tullius has their soldiers living in tents in the forest?"

Xaliyah bites back a laugh as she glances over at Brynjolf, who seems unamused by the Khajiit's remark, "of course not," he says, tone annoyed, "it's just that you two never really properly described this base of yours,"

"You'll see it soon, I promise," Ayla speaks up, "it's unlike anything you've ever seen," she adds before they return to a comfortable silence. Xaliyah stares up at a flock of birds as they find a tree to rest on, chirping noisily amongst themselves. Two squirrels hop in the snow as a rabbit chases another rabbit. This is such a peaceful moment and Xaliyah knows she should enjoy it while it lasts. This may be the last peaceful moment for a long while.

"Here we are," Ayla says after another hour of traveling. The sun is starting to set, but the entire group could see the looming fortress in front of them. It was obviously dwemer made, given by the dwemer's infamous architectural style.

"It's dwemer," Brynjolf says softly after a few moments of staring at the building.

Ayla chuckles, "that it is," she replies, "it used to be a ruin, but we rebuilt it in a few months time, trying to keep it similar to its original form,"

It's massive. Built literally for a rebellion. Xaliyah grabs hold of the reins as Caper tosses his head, a frightened neigh leaving him as he takes a few steps back.

The source of the horse's nervousness shows itself as it flies above them, letting out a loud roar, causing several flocks of birds to fly off. The group watches as the dragon lands on the roof of the base.

"Shall we?" Ayla asks, urging her horse forward and the group follows. Xaliyah looks over at Brynjolf to see him giving her a questioning look. She shrugs in response before urging Caper to gallop forward to catch up to Ayla and Kharjo.

"What do you think, lass?" Brynjolf asks her from the doorway to her new room for the next year or so, "is it everything you hoped for?"

Xaliyah takes a deep breath and runs a hand through her brown curls as she sits down on her bed. The room is pretty large, a fireplace against the main wall surrounded by a few chairs. A window shows the snowy mountains surrounding the base.

"It is different," she replies, meeting his gaze quickly before looking away, "less familiar than the cistern, but I can get used to this," she adds with a small smile.

"Definitely a lot more fresh food than what the Flagon offers," Brynjolf says with a chuckle, one Xaliyah returns. As much as she likes the Flagon and enjoys spending most of her free time in the small tavern, the food wasn't always as fresh as it was in other establishments.

"I am so going to tell Vekel that you said that," Xaliyah threatens and watches as the redhead lifts an eyebrow, a hum leaving him.

"Not if I can stop you, lass," he challenges, his mouth slowly forming a smile as Xaliyah stares at him, eyebrows raised as she processes his challenge, "I don't need Vekel taking away my ale when we get back,"

Xaliyah rolls her eyes as she stands, "even if you do stop me, I can still prohibit you from drinking ale as well, lad," she responds, arms crossed and a small smile on her lips. Before Brynjolf can reply, a new voice joins them.

"Sorry to interrupt this...moment," Ayla says, peering around Brynjolf, who still stands in the doorway, "but we have business to attend to," with a smile, Ayla disappear back into the hall and Xaliyah sighs.

"Right. We're at war, not on vacation," she breathes out, mainly to herself as she opens her eyes, "there is plenty of things that need to be done before we get back to Riften,"

Brynjolf pushes himself off of the doorway, "I need to go finish unpacking my things," he explains, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder and out the door, "I'll come to find you two when I finish," he adds before walking out the door, revealing a smirking Ayla leaning against the doorway, playing with an arrow.

"What?" Xaliyah questions as she walks out of the room and past Ayla, who turns around by rolling onto her right shoulder before pushing herself off of the wall and catches up to her friend.

"You and Brynjolf," she says and Xaliyah closes her eyes. She knew this conversation would happen the moment Ayla interrupted, "you finally talk about your feelings? It was getting pretty hot in there,"

Xaliyah sends her best friend a glare as they walk, "of course not," she says with a shake of her head as they round a corner, "we were just joking around about me telling Vekel to forbid Brynjolf any alcohol, that's it,"

Xaliyah can feel the Dragonborn's gaze on her and knew that her words didn't end the discussion, "it wasn't joking, more like teasing," Ayla responds as they near a set of grand doors leading to somewhere important.

It is then that Xaliyah realizes that there are a bunch of soldiers around them, not escorting them of course. Most groups are mindlessly walking and talking while others are jogging with a general is yelling commands at them.

"You let your soldiers train inside?"

Ayla glances at the jogging group and shrugs, "it's a massive place," she explains as she pushes the doors open, "they get a lot of exercise and stay out of the bitter wind and freezing temperatures outside. It's a win-win,"

"I see," Xaliyah says softly as she follows Ayla through a vast library. Scholars walk around, each with a book or two in their hands. Several sit and study the writings while others are busy putting away their books or finding new ones to study.

"Ah, Ayla, good to see you've returned!" a voice says and Xaliyah looks forward to see a High Elf woman with white hair, unlike her fellow High Elves. She had a cheery expression on her face and her white colored pupils shine, "I have heard that your mission to ally with the Stormcloaks was successful. Definitely helped with the moral here,"

"Thank you, Asteria," Ayla says as they begin walking through the large library, "how have things fared here since I've been gone?" the elf, who wears her hair in a messy bun with curls falling out of it, follows Ayla.

"The soldiers remain strong and fit and ready for battle," Asteria informs the woman, "Vilkas has made sure of that. The wizards here have trained long and hard to learn their respective skill. Plus we continue to learn about various lost treasures scatted around Skyrim, each one with the potential to aid our cause should you find one,"

"Thank you, Asteria," Ayla says, coming to a stop in the middle of the library, "and have you received any news about Athena or Tal?"

The elven woman shakes her head, "I'm sorry, but no," she says before her gaze lands on Xaliyah, "I see you managed to talk the leader of the Thieves Guild to fully join the Rebellion,"

Xaliyah shrugs, "when the home of your base is under Imperial control and lead by a power-hungry woman, it tends to give you more reason to fight," she explains and Asteria smiles before a scholar approaches them, whispering something into the elf's ears.

"I'm sorry, but something important needs my attention," she says, returning her gaze to the two women, "one of the destruction class mages set a training room on fire. Again," she then turns and rushes off, following the scholar.

"Who is she?"

"Asteria," Ayla explains, "the headmistress of the College of Winterhold. Very knowledgeable in every subject of magic and, with the help of the College's librarian, has a book on every subject known to man,"

"How did you manage to recruit the Thieve's Guild, Dark Brotherhood, the Companions, and the College to your cause?" Xaliyah asks, shaking her head as they begin walking to the other end of the library again, "do you bargain with gold? Horses? Weapons?"

"Freedom, Xal," Ayla interrupts, "I promise them with a life of freedom. That and we're friends with their leaders, well, I am anyway," she opens another door and this leads to a room with a long table and in the middle is a map of Skyrim.

"This is where all our planning will be taking place, I assume," Xaliyah observes, glancing around the lit room. There are no windows in the room nor any chairs surrounding the table. Bookshelves line the walls and adorn a few books on each shelf. A chandelier made of metal hangs over the table with eight candles on it. Stone makes up the walls, ceiling, and floor of the room.

"Every single plan we make will be made in this room," Ayla confirms as she walks over to the table, "soon Athena and Tal will be here and we can begin our assault on the Thalmor," Xaliyah watches as Ayla smiles at the last part.

"You really want them gone, huh?" she asks the raven-haired woman.

"Of course I do," Ayla replies, standing up straight, "they have caused too much pain and suffering to the people of Skyrim. That needs to end,"

"Is this justice you seek or personal vengeance?" Xaliyah questions the Dragonborn further.

"Both," is her reply, "I will not hear anything else on this subject," Ayla adds before walking out of the room and back into the library, "Athena and Tal should be here tomorrow and that is when we plan our next move against the Thalmor,"

Xaliyah nods in understanding as they walk back across the library, "with a base like this that holds a large army, we might as well attack the Thalmor headquarters directly,"

Ayla shakes her head as they walk out of the library, "we'd lose," she explains, leading Xaliyah down the hallway, "the Thalmor are masters with magic. Most of my army would be dead before we pass the walls,"

"Then how do you expect to win this war?" the thief asks and the woman beside her smiles.

"Time, strategy, and the fall of an Empire,"

#Skyrim #Skyrim fanfiction #Dragonborn #Dovahkiin #Ulfric Stormcloak #Brynjolf #Cicero #Imperials #Civil War #Thieves Guild #Dark Brotherhood #Rebellion #Thalmor

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obibail · 5 years ago

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my main squeezes: Vince, Sam, and Vespa! + your Skyrim OC 👀👀👀👀👀👀🔍

fghjdfskj the boys!!!!!!

Vince

The only person to ever call Vince Vincent is his mother. And Rush that one time.

Speaks English, Spanish, French, Haitian Creole, Portuguese, and Arabic.

Was attending NYU for cinema studies. Loved loved loved cinematography studies and film theory. Wanted to be a director! Had actually written & directed two short films already and had been shooting two more that he hoped to premiere at a few local film festivals. Had to drop out of the program after the accident that cost him his left arm because of the medical expenses and the long hospital stays. To say he was crushed is,,,, an understatement.

Was in California having an experimental prosthetic arm fitted & attached when the bombs dropped. He’s told that he followed everyone else to the bunkers but he has no memory of it. The doctors assume it’s either shock or the anesthesia that was in his system when it all happened, but regardless he comes to in immense nerve pain and in a crowded hospital bunker underneath Los Angeles with no clue with the fuck is going on.

Actually knows Ghost, ran with the same group Ghost did in Baja California for two years. Ghost had a big hand in how constantly battered Vince was during those years, liked to goad Vince into worse and worse shit because Ghost wanted to see how far someone like Vince - who was one of the few people in their group with morals - could be pushed before he broke. Ghost got their answer, too, when Vince turns around and - in a nearly blind rage - kills two of their group just before a planned attack on a community of mostly non-combatants.

Lost his right leg in 2030, an infected bullet wound that they (in the middle of a medicine shortage after a brutal winter) didn’t have the means to treat. His eventual leg prosthetic was built based on close study of his arm. Connecting it alone puts him out of commission for almost two months.

Does actually,,,, steal rings off corpses sometimes. A habit he picked up while with Ghost’s crew, a kind of trophy-hunting activity that turned into an unconscious action because he did it so much. He’s got,,, a pretty substantial ring collection. He pretends he feels worse about it than he actually does because what use did a dead person have for jewelry anyway?

Rush is the one who teaches him to shoot, a year or two after Vince joins his group. It comes to the group’s attention that Vince had never even held a gun prior to Rush - acting on a hunch - putting one in his hands one stupid hot California day and told him to go hog on some static targets. Vince missed pretty much every single one. Thankfully, his aim has gotten much better since then.

Vince feels conflicted about a number of things that he has done over the years but killing Ghost’s sociopath ass when they cross paths again in Hope County ain’t one of them.

Sam

Sam, good old midwestern boy that he is, legally cannot cuss.

He’s tall as hell but also thin as hell. He’s 6′6 at least but he’s also probably 145lbs soaking wet. A toothpick.

Nick calls him Sammy. (One time Nick slipped up and referred to the Judge as Sammy and everyone had a bad day about it.)

Sheriff Whitehorse is actually Sam’s godfather! Whitehorse and Sam’s dad (a retired sheriff from South Dakota) were really good friends & still kept in touch pretty regularly before the cult business started up bad in Hope Country. It’s Whitehorse that pulls the strings to get his anxious pothead veteran godson a position as a deputy. (Sam calls him uncle).

Sam is bisexual but how do you say very very repressed about it. Lots of religious-guilt-tinged self-hate because of growing up Catholic in the midwest and then in the south. Definitely had an “in love with my same gender best friend and very ashamed of it” phase.

Sam and John Seed actually ran in the same circles growing up, just at different times. John’s a few years older but they went to the same high school & John’s adopted parents and Sam’s mom were actually well-acquainted. As a teenager, Sam used to be invited to John’s parties & would go with friends and get a little too drunk (which John would them use as fun leverage against Sam’s fairly powerful mother).

On that subject, John was 100% Sam’s bougie weed man all through high school and later when he got out of the Air Force & was self medicating his PTSD.

Sam, realizing he played right into Joseph’s hands: You played me like a fiddle!Joseph: Oh no, Deputy. Fiddles are actually difficult to play. I played you like to cheap kazoo you are.

& some Judge stuff bc 💔💔: Sometimes he’ll disappear for hours on end and most of New Eden is just *solemnly* “he must be doing something very important” except instead of doing that he’s sleeping in the most secret, softest place he could find.

Has an adopted daughter, a little girl named Abigail who attached herself to him at the hip - because she was born mute and he is also mute and she thinks that’s neat, she’d never met anyone like herself before. She and the Judge make up their own version of sign language - that actually ends up being shared between a lot of the residents of New Eden, especially the scouts that the Judge trains.

Vespa

Card-carrying member of the billionaire boys club.

Corporate CEO mom who raised him in a very hands-off way because she was always too busy. Homeschooled, raised by nannies. A lot of his education came through the net, which he learned to navigate at a terribly young age while ignoring his tutors because they bored him.

Has a “rival” in Dare Aranya, his mother’s former protege and the person who (“allegedly”, but definitely) orchestrated her assassination and the woman who is currently CEO of Sasaki Industries and is the executor of Vespa’s mom’s will.

Even though his mother is assassinated when he is 16, he stays in Night City for a year after and blows through whatever bits of his inheritance he can get his hands on, on parties and drugs and vehicles and whatever else a traumatized teenager who saw his mom’s murder can spend money on. A spoiled disaster of a teenage party prince of the highest caliber. Ends up leaving Night City when his money suddenly dries up, syphoned off by Dare.

Bounces between countries and netspaces for years, never spending more than a few months in once place (aside from significant stays in Mumbai, Moscow, and Tokyo). Only returns to Night City after a botch job in Tokyo.

Is actually an Arasaka on his dad’s side, is the great grandnephew of Saburo Arasaka. He ends up staying with a branch of the Arasaka family in Tokyo until he fucks up a job for them while high and gets thrown out on his ass.

Has constant splitting headaches because of his bionic eyes - which are half the reason he self-medicates so heavily. Had to have them replaced and maintained constantly as a child because of natural human growth, which was always a terrifying experience for him, not helped at all by the sterile white rooms he would be taken to or the cool detachment of his doctors who did not work with children and were not paid for their bedside manner. It culminated in a scalding dislike for doctors and a refusal to go to them unless he is literally dying. Ripperdocs are equally, if not more, off limits.

Is notorious for turning off his hearing aids when he wants to focus better or when he is getting too sensory overloaded to function, frustrating everyone he has ever worked with.

He’s adamant his nickname is from the Italian word for “wasp” (as a riff off Dare’s last name, a phonetic spelling of araña, Spanish for spider. one time - while he was in Milan like the rich idiot he is - he heard about these wasps that kill spiders and he has a Justified Grudge against Dare so. wasp) and not from the scooter but he’s scooter boy forever now.

Jackie Welles, hefting Vespa “idiot bastard who spent all his money on drugs and passed out in the back room of a bar again” Sasaki over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes: god damn I wish you’d take care of yourself

I didn’t know if you meant Katja or Sylon but I’m gonna go with Sylon because I love him & bc he’s the more developed of the two rn 😬😬

Is some mix of Breton and Bosmer but no one really knows for sure because no one knows who his actual parents are. The ‘parents’ he was taken from were skooma addicts who had been hounding Khajiit merchants for weeks and were irresponsible to the point that a whole caravan of Khajiit, stressing out while watching this couple neglect their tiny child, collectively lost their minds and just went “listen here’s the stuff you want, don’t even pay us just give us the baby. give us the baby, please.” The caravan finds that couple again not two days later, dead in the desert, and no one is even surprised.

Amazing singing voice but doesn’t actually think he can sing at all. Will hum or sing absent-mindedly sometimes and get real surprised when he looks up to find people have come over to hear him better.

Doesn’t have time for destiny, just wants to steal.

Becomes a thieves’ guild merchant in Riften & moves his business into the Ragged Flagon when their reputation starts getting better. Is also a thief in the guild itself but legitimizes himself as a merchant in Riften by actually running legitimate goods (which helps Khajiit caravans a lot because they can’t trade in the cities but he can and he’s always happy to help the caravans he crosses paths with).

Being raised by Khajiit, Sylon had been taught from a young age not to rely on people and to only rely on his own talents and abilities & to be out for himself and only himself & he believes in this doctrine fully. That is, he believed in it up until the second he meets Karliah and Brynjolf and then he just *lays face down on the ground* “hmm maybe caring about others and wanting to have people that care about me is okay actually.”

Is definitely in love with Brynjolf but no one will ever get him to admit it, least of all Brynjolf.

Meets Katja after she catches him stealing a box of jewelry from her home in Dawnstar. Gets roped into a quest to kill giants with her as a form of recompense because she knows he’s the dragonborn and she’s pissed he isn’t living up to expectations. They end up becoming incredibly close friends whose favorite pastime is jointly roasting Kali, the stupidly naive exiled Redguard noble that Sylon saved from being assassinated one time and who Katja is now housing and feeding (and terrorizing).

Would adopt every orphan in Skyrim if given the option. Despite being fairly aloof and coming across as self-serving, he is shockingly doting and attentive to kids. Makes a name for himself in the cities as a friend of children and someone who will provide without asking for anything in return. Is the unofficial patron god of orphans and strays. And although he doesn’t ask it of them, they make a great information network for him & are happy to tell him everything they overhear in the cities that might be of interest to their thief dad.

#oc: vince mann #oc: sam kettering #oc: vespa #oc: sylon #thank you for indulging me i'm cryin' 💜💜💜#chuckhansen

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strigital · 6 years ago

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The Elder Scrolls VI wish list:

In-depth character customization with tons of options: everything from colors of both inner and outer iris to height and voice.

Player character origins. I want a choice between having completely blank origins, so that I can create my own backstory, or choose between a couple of existing ones, which will affect the gameplay in the long run. Like if I choose to be an Outlaw at some point a team of bandits instead of attacking me will give me a quest, or if I decide that I want to be a Noble, then aristocratic NPCs will recognize me as one of their own and as such I’ll have easier time gaining their trust.

A well working physics engine, so that we can have realistic flowing hair, clothes that move in the wind, horse’s mane and tail that swish realistically when it gallops, etc.

At least some environmental objects being destructible: rocks falling to pieces after getting hit by a stray fireball, enemies getting thrown at certain walls, that crumble and crush said enemies, bridges that can be brought down to cut off the path, locked doors that can be destroyed with a few swings of a maul. Just let me annihilate piles of crates and barrels like other games do, damnit!

Player character being a physical presence recognized by the game world, such as grass swaying when I walk through it, my feet leaving footprints on snow and sand that look different depending on whether I’m barefoot or not, seeing all the little rocks being kicked about as I run on gravel, and piles of dead leaves doing the same when I run through them, dust and small debris falling from old wooden structures as I step on them, etc. Basically, feeling like my body isn’t just a ghost running through the lands without leaving a trace.

Ability to combine spells with each other or the environment for various effects, like they did it in Divinity Original Sin 2. I want to be able to throw a lightning bolt into a puddle and electrocute all the enemies stood in the water, or throw a fireball at a barrel of oil and cause a platform to collapse under the force of an explosion and kill the archers that were on said platform (again about the destructible objects), or cast an ice spell on water, so that the enemies slip, fall and get stunned. If such a mechanic is not full of potential for some ridiculous and hilarious situations, then I don’t know what is.

Unique companions with backstories and personalities, likes and dislikes, goals and agendas. They can also be romanced by ANY player character, no matter their sex/race/other traits and the romance progression is close to a real life relationship, with ups and downs, jokes and arguments, sexy times and break ups.

Let me have a squad of my own. Two or maybe even three companions at once. They also have their own relationships and opinions about each other. They chat, they argue, they flirt, they rant about being forced to travel with that jerk, they get overprotective towards the player if they’re romanced and hear the other one catcalling the player, they share their opinions, give the player advice on the current situation, they each have their own comments about places and other NPCs and they may or may not see eye to eye on those opinions. Let there be drama in true “party of DnD adventurers” fashion!

Also Dogmeat-like animal companion, who can travel alongside other companions and do stuff like sniff out enemies, find goodies, do tricks, duplicate items, grab items from containers with master locks on them... You know, the usual Dogmeat stuff.

Mounts other than horses. I want to see Redguards riding their camels, Khajiiti caravans with senches, Nords putting bears under the saddle. If horses are still the only rideable animal, then I want variety and customization: lots of breeds to choose from, individual armor, saddlebags and cosmetic items, ability to name a horse and have it come to the player at a single whistle. Also, Shadowmere. TES 6 won’t be the same without that demonic horse.

At least one friendly dragon. Because I need more of Paarthurnax.

More active Divines. Daedric quests are fun, no arguing there, but I’d also like to go on a holy quest bestowed upon me by, say, Akatosh himself, not some old prophecy. Also Divine relics to counterbalance Daedric artifacts.

More stuff to kill your time with. Games at taverns, visiting brothels, betting on horse racing or participating yourself, watching street performers and so on. I want to take part in the same entertainment the inhabitants of Tamriel do, damnit!

More alive, realistic world. If there’s a war I want to see hanged deserters on a tree, if it’s autumn I want to see people throwing harvest festival parties in their towns and cities, if it’s a plague outbreak I want to see corpses, sick people and hear church bells... Again, the Witcher 3 did it, now I want all of this grungy, dirty, realistic shit in the next TES game!

Tons of dialogue choices based on the player character’s skills, traits, race, sex, affiliation with factions, etc. I want NPCs to react to the character in a dynamic way, so that each new playthrough with a new character is fresh and inexperienced before. Let them Nords throw sexist comments at my Dunmer lady, let the Khajiits deny information to any other character that is not a Khajiit, let my bulky Nord fellow get discounts at the bar and my Imperial guy in fancy clothes get into the royal palace way easier that an Argonian in a hood would. I want to feel, see and hear that NPCs know and react to my character in a realistic way, so there are more challenges, interesting moments, secret dialogues and hidden quests only available for a certain character that made certain choices. Let the next game be the true definition of RPG!

Khajiits and Argonians having animal-like legs that they had back in TES III Morrowind. Please.

Longer and more complicated guild quests, so that even joining the guild requires time and skill, let alone progressing through ranks. And don’t make me a leader of each and every faction! Make me a second in command or a high ranking official with new perks and armor as a reward. Don’t make me the most overpowered mortal in Tamriel again, because it’s getting old fashioned.

Some sort of an ability tree, which allows you to tinker and make bombs, traps, contraptions and other awesome goodies that’ll make any combat a wild party.

Good third person animations. C’mon, Bethany Esda, I know you can do it.

Voiced protagonist. If not fully, then on the Divinity Original Sin 2′s level, where the player character does not speak in dialogues, but has voiced comments when interacting with certain objects or entering a location, etc. Or just add an option in the Settings menu to turn on or off player character’s voice.

Ability to hide that ugly ass helmet with a single click of a button, without being forced to choose between showing my awesome hairdo to the world and +5 to Armor Rating.

Ability to equip multiple weapons at once and also being able to see them on my character, i. e. a bow on my back, and axe on my right hip, a dagger on my left hip and a staff alongside the bow. Also they jiggle according to physics.

Big cities. No, I mean, like, really, truly BIG cities. I mean some Novigrad from the Witcher 3 type of big cities. I want to get lost in them. I want to find all the secrets, hidden in dark alleys and on the rooftops. I want countless quests within the city itself. Just let me enjoy some fantasy medieval city life, okay?

Animated activities. When I click to skin a dead deer I want to see my character sit down and do some work with a knife. When I go to a spot where fish is abundant I want to see a fishing rod being thrown into the water. That sorta thing.

Detailed crafting system. I. e. you could choose to make a handle of a sword and its blade from different materials and have different effects on them that combine once you put the sword together. Or whilst making armor you could pick between different textures, materials, colors and such. Basically, what they did in Dragon Age Inquisition. That was a fun system to play around with.

Also more subcategories for crafting, like if you are a high level smith you could craft some horseshoes for your mount that’ll increase its galloping speed, or if you’re a skilled alchemist you could make a throwable potion which will harm the enemies in a certain way (like a jar of bees or something). And, of course, accompanying animations are welcome. I’d die to see my character put some horseshoes on their steed.

A loveable villain, who could be “persuaded” to abandon his goals, join your squad and become your new LI. Basically, Miraak 2.0, but with a happily ever after ending.

Dwemer prosthetics. Sotha Sil thinks he’s so hip with his metallic arm, doesn’t he? Well I too want to have a metallic arm, damnit!

Ability to furnish your house however you like. When you buy a house there could be a choice between a fully furnished version and an unfurnished version of your house. After that you could either re-arrange the furniture in your abode or buy new furniture that suits your tastes. Then you could enter furnishing mode and have a blast decorating your dream house to your heart’s content. Basically, what we saw in Fallout 4′s Homeplate and Fizztop Grille.

Outposts, keeps or anything like that. They could be like small bases that you take control of once you slaughter its previous owners, where you and your squad of companions could rest, talk, repair broken armor and weapons or buy new ones, stock up on potions and bandages, that sort of thing. There also could be a special object that will allow you to instantly switch between the companions and/or choose a different mount from a collection of those that you own. Also there could be a badass custom flag of yours marking that place as your own.

i’ll proly add some more later, but rn i’m out of ideas xD

#c'mon Bethesda #give some good shit #i'd die for a heavily detailed game like this #wishlist #the elder scrolls #tesvi #tes6 #redfall #bethesda

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monstersandmaw · 7 years ago

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Footsteps in the Snow - Chapter Six

Lein and Argis bond a bit more over a campfire breakfast, Lein and Argis go hunt a dragon down, and Lein gets characteristically over-excited and does something stupid. Argis is left, once again, to pick up the pieces...

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Lein inhaled deeply, slowly, when he woke. Light pressed against his eyelids, hard, sharp, and much too bright. He shuffled. And then yelped in horror as something cold slid down his neck and into his shirt. Flailing, magicka boiling to life in his hands, he sat up with a shriek, expecting to see perhaps a frostbite spider standing over him, mandibles dripping thick ropes of icy venom.

Instead he saw that his sleeping bag was covered in a layer of soft, cold snow. Breathing hard, he closed his eyes and laughed hoarsely at his mistake, sweeping the remaining snow off his neck and shoulders and shivering. It was only as he heard the low rumble of another laugh nearby that he looked over and saw Argis crouched beside the campfire, prodding the logs and rotating a couple of fish that were spread over a stick above the flames, flavoured with what looked like tart snowberries.

“Morning,” he chuckled, eyes glinting with mirth at his thane’s cold-weather antics.

“Fuck off,” Lein retorted sleepily, which only made Argis laugh harder. “Urgh. I was sure it wasn’t going to snow this far over.” He suddenly remembered the wet clothes which they had left to dry beside the fire the previous evening, and groaned. “I bet the clothes are frozen stiff,” he grumbled.

“No,” Argis said brightly. “I shook the snow off them this morning before it melted, and finished them off when I stoked up the fire. They’re all dry now.” He eyed Lein’s torso, covered only by his thin linen shirt. “Speaking of… you should probably put some more clothes on before you freeze.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, catching the leather trousers as Argis tossed them over from the fireside.

It was only as he laced his fingers together and reached up into a languorous stretch that he recalled waking in the night with Argis’ hand holding his. How long had they stayed like that? Had Argis awoken to find them linked together? If he had, what had his reaction been, Lein wondered, as his gaze flitted back to the housecarl.

Argis frowned slightly. “Thane?” he asked when he found him staring. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said again, his voice cracking in the middle of the word. He coughed, shuffled, and squeaked as a bit more snow fell off the sleeping bag into his lap, and then got out in a rush.

Argis blinked when he saw him standing there in just his shirt and his underwear, and Lein wondered if he didn’t take half a heartbeat too long to look away. Could it have been the glow of the fire adding colour to his cheeks? It was hard to tell at that distance.

Lein stuffed his legs into his warm, softly-lined leather trousers and bundled some woollen socks onto his chilly toes. As he snuggled into a fur-lined jacket, still standing on the top of his bedroll, he looked about for his boots.

“Here,” Argis grunted, throwing them over too from where they’d been standing beside the fire.

As he slipped his feet into them, he hummed gratefully at the warmth. “Mmm, thank you,” he smiled. “Toasty feet. Nice start to the day.”

Argis’ expression to start with was difficult as ever to read, but it rapidly broke into a smile. “Hopefully this’ll help too,” he said, gesturing at the cooking fish with the stick he had in his hand.

“Smells amazing. I’m surprised you haven’t got an orderly queue of bears and sabres lining up for service.”

Argis only laughed. “Should be done by now. You hungry?”

“Starving,” he said, working out the crick in his spine with another feline stretch. “And stiff.” He exhaled with a grunt and asked, “How are you this morning?”

“Same as you, I think,” he grinned as he hoisted the fish off the fire and slid them both onto a little wooden platter. Digging out two forks from his bag, he handed one to Lein as the smaller man sank down cross-legged beside the fire like a Khajiit.

“Well, we don’t have to go so far today,” he smiled. “We can even split the journey to Morthal, so long as you don’t mind another night in the snow.”

Argis shook his head and took another bite of the slightly charred fish. “I don’t mind the cold,” he said.

“I wish I didn’t,” Lein said miserably, rubbing his thighs with his spare hand. Being left-handed, and with Argis holding the plate between them on his right, Lein had to reach right over his legs to stab the fish on their shared platter, but he didn’t object. The rocking motion put him momentarily closer to Argis each time he reached for the plate. “Gods, Argis, this salmon is good. I can’t believe you’ve been up fishing already, unless you charmed it off that fisherwoman back at Crabber’s Shanty…?” He nearly added another rather more inappropriate comment, but he bit it back. It was too early for that.

Argis’ smirk made the scars on his left cheek stretch, his blind eye crinkling softly in the corner. “That what you think of me, eh?” he asked, turning to face him fully.

“Well,” Lein said casually, casting his eyes up to the soft, silver grey sky, “It is the middle of the morning now… You let me sleep a long time. You’re a good-looking guy… Who knows what you’ve been up to since dawn?” He laughed, showing him he was being playful, and Argis took up the tone.

“Well!” he retorted right back, his voice deep and gruff as usual, though he spoke with a mock-affronted tone that made his hazel eye glitter, “Here I was letting my little princess of a thane sleep in, while I went off and braved the icy waters of the river to catch you some breakfast. And all you can do is assume I went off to work my charms on a poor defenceless woman in the wilderness.” He pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. “What do they teach you thane school?”

Lein tipped his head back and laughed. It felt so good to laugh like that. The sound of his gentle baritone filled his chest, his head, and the whole campsite like a bard’s song in a high hall. “Ah, Argis,” he chortled, “I knew you’d be good for me the moment I saw you.”

The corners of Argis’ lips twitched again, but he didn’t add anything.

“Seriously though,” Lein said. “Thank you for this. It’s delicious.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “And I was starving this morning too. I thought about doing something with one of those mudcrabs, but really you need time and space and a big old cook pot for that.”

“Maybe you can cook some for us when we get to Windstad,” he said, impressed. “There are lots of the fuckers in the boggy bits down by the shore. And the Nine know neither Valdimar nor I can cook half as well, and I have no experience of Iona’s cooking.”

“Iona?”

“Val’s fiancée,” he said. “They’ve been engaged for forever, but bless them, they wanted to wait til I was there to have the ceremony, would you believe it?”

Argis smiled knowingly but kept his thoughts to himself.

Lein finished the last of his salmon, crunching the crispy, salty skin between his teeth with particular relish, and leaned back, hands splayed on the bedroll he was using to sit on and keep his clothes dry. “They’re going to have the ceremony in the Temple of the Divines in Solitude.”

“Sounds fancy,” Argis said.

“Ho boy,” Lein nodded. “Yeah. Iona’s father is one of Jarl Elisif’s advisors, and stinking rich. Iona’s his youngest daughter, so he doesn’t really mind her marrying the housecarl of a lowly thane like me, though I think he could probably be a bit happier about Val’s employer.”

Argis frowned. “Why?”

Lein snorted and tilted his head back to stare up at the sky above them. It was one of those still winter days where the sky was endless, but veiled in a layer of high, silky cloud, and the air was crisp and fresh, and full of the smell of more snow. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be shocked to learn that I don’t exactly conform to what they expect of a thane in Solitude. I mean,” he went on, “I do answer the summons… mostly… unless I’m in a different hold or something, but I don’t give a skeever’s arse for politics, I refuse to engage in any Stormcloak or Imperial business, and, I think perhaps my greatest flaw is that I always seem to use the wrong fork for my starters…”

“Shocking,” Argis deadpanned, and Lein couldn’t contain his little snort of laughter.

“I know. The thing is, I know how to behave, but I just get such a kick out of watching them get their underwear in a twist, I can’t help myself. I think that’s why I don’t get invited to things very often any more, which is fine by me.”

“So,” Argis asked as he scraped up the last few flakes of his salmon, “What do you spend most of your time doing then?”

Lein blinked and then turned his mismatching eyes on Argis. “I guess I haven’t really had the chance to show you what I do, have I? What with falling off mountains into necromantic rituals and taking so long to recover…”

His housecarl shrugged and set the plate down on the frozen ground.

“I’m not normally so shit at surviving, I promise.”

Argis laughed, and muttered, “I’ve seen your scars, thane. I can tell that.”

Lein felt the slight warmth of a blush in his cheeks. “Well, when I’m not giving in to my own overly-excitable nature, I actually do some work. I owe my allegiance to a couple of guilds, I guess, so I do jobs and contracts for them when they call on me. I’m lucky enough to have quite a lot of wealth saved up and stashed away so I don’t technically need to work a normal job all the time.”

Argis blinked.

“I know, I dress like a tramp. You’re not the first person to be surprised to learn I’m actually quite well off.” He snorted and left it at that. “I studied at Winterhold for a while, so I also offer my services as an enchanter. I have spent quite a long time with the Dawnguard too.”

“Vampire hunters.”

He nodded. “It was a few years back when the attacks got so bad that you couldn’t travel round even the major cities at night without tripping over a master vampire and his thralls. People were getting scared, and I was free, so I offered my services and my blades to the Dawnguard. They’re decent people, good fighters, and we eventually managed to stop that lunatic, Harkon, from blotting out the sun.”

“Harkon?” Argis paused, frowning. “That was you? You were the one who stopped him?”

Lein’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m surprised you heard about that,” he said. “Most people just think we wiped out a massive coven. Few people know Harkon’s name or what he’d planned.”

“You know how word gets around the guards,” he said. “I was in Markarth’s City Guard for years. We heard about the vampires, and knew to watch out for the Volkihar ones especially. We heard the Dawnguard had defeated their leader, Harkon. Even heard that the Dawnguard was running around with a tame vampire of their own… that true?”

“Serana,” he said, a warm fondness filling his voice at the thought of her. “Yeah. She… She’s pretty unique.”

“Oh?” he asked, his voice sounding somehow different.

Lein chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, if you told me before I found her in Dimhollow that I’d be adventuring around Skyrim with a 4000 year old woman by my side, I’d have told you someone had slipped some skooma in your tea. And then if you’d told me that said 4000 year old woman didn’t look like some shrivelled up corpse but in fact was quite possibly the most intelligent and beautiful woman ever to set foot on our great continent, I would have laughed you out of the room, but…” he shrugged. “It’s all true.” He ran his fingers through his white hair, combing out the tangles in it as it fell loose to brush over his shoulders. “And I’m such a scholar, I had a real hoot asking her all about what Tamriel was like before she got sealed away in the crypt. It was fascinating.” He pushed a hand through his hair one last time and tied it half back with a leather cord. “And even I’ll have to admit that travelling with a woman had it’s benefits.”

“Oh?” he asked a second time, his voice now tinged with a hint of… of what exactly?

Lein huffed a nervous laugh. “You wouldn’t believe the doors a beautiful woman can open for you, in all sorts of circles. We had a lot of fun.” He sighed and realised he should probably correct any stray thoughts Argis was having about him and Serana, alone on the road together. Even if it meant the possibility of having to admit, finally, that he was interested entirely and exclusively in men. He wasn’t sure Argis was ready for that, but if the time had come, then maybe it had come. “She said she liked travelling with a man who never showed the slightest bit of interest in her… you know… that way. She said it was nice just to have a friend.” He risked a quick look at Argis’ face, but it was intense and impassive all at the same time. Lein made a mental note never to play the man at cards. “And she was right. It was nice to have a friend. I usually spend so long on my own I forget how to use my voice, and I don’t mean all that dragonborn shouting nonsense.” He sighed. “Maybe you’ll get to meet her if we swing by Fort Dawnguard sometime.” He paused. “She’s sassy. You’d like her.”

Argis smiled, but it didn’t carry his usual warmth. He looked away and prodded at the dying fire absently with his poking stick. “You talk a lot about travelling, but you ever think about settling down?”

“What?”

“Well, you said your housecarl’s getting married…” He didn’t look away from the tiny flames dancing on the charred logs.

Lein snorted. “I have thought about it,” he said glumly. “But I lead a… a somewhat ‘nomadic’ lifestyle to say the least. My partner would have to be prepared to sleep rough on the roads for nights on end between backwater inns, and trail around after me while I clear out crypts full of draugr and risk my life battling dragons on mountaintops.” He fiddled with a toggle on his boot, and studiously avoided using the words ‘she’ or ‘wife’. “Not everyone can wield a sword, or wants to put themselves in danger like that all the time, and if they didn’t want to, they’d have to rattle around one of my houses alone, perhaps for months at a time, wondering if I’m ever coming back. That doesn’t seem like a fair ask to me, and no one I’ve ever been with has seemed to think so either.” He released the toggle and stood up with a grunt. “Not that I’ve tried the idea out on many people.”

Without looking at Argis, he grabbed the platter and their two forks from the ground beside him, and stumped over to the waterfall to rinse them clean. Argis took them from him when he was done, and began to pack up the camp. Lein took himself off to splash his face in the waterfall and to answer nature’s call in private.

By the time he returned, Argis had doused and scattered the fire, and packed everything up, including Lein’s own bedroll. He’d strapped it already to the bottom of Lein’s bag. Standing beside his thane’s bag, he looked up, scowling, when Lein returned.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, “You look like you trod in a falmer turd.”

Argis’ frown shattered into a snort of laughter, but it soon returned. “What the hell have you got in here?” he said, lifting Lein’s pack with one arm and a loud grunt. Lein allowed himself the small pleasure of watching his huge bicep work to lift the heavy bag. “And why didn’t you give me some of it to carry?”

Lein shrugged. “It’s only what I usually carry on the road for a long journey like this one.”

“This weighs easily a hundred pounds,” Argis blurted, clearly looking at Lein’s slight figure and wondering how the hell he did it. “That’s, like…”

“Almost as much as I weigh?” he countered playfully. “Gods, Argis, I know I’m small, but I’m not that small. And I’m not that weak.” He swallowed. He was probably just shy of a hundred and forty pounds. On a heavy day. After a big meal.

Argis blushed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said in a rush. “I just…” His scowl deepened. “You can damage yourself carrying this much weight on your shoulders.”

Lein knew that. He’d seen Imperial soldiers forced out on marches carrying 100lb packs with no support, and who ended up being unable to use their arms for a while because the nerves in the shoulder and neck had been compressed. “You’ll notice the waist straps I’ve got on it,” he said sharply, pointing at the thick support straps which did up around his middle. “I didn’t leave home yesterday, Argis.”

Again, the housecarl looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean that you don’t know what you’re doing. But you can ask me to carry stuff for you, you know? Mine doesn’t even weigh half that.”

Lein toyed with the idea, and faced with those puppy-dog eyes, even if one of them was milky white and stared blindly almost through him rather than at him, he found it hard to refuse him. “Fine,” he said. “Look, if we pick up anything else today, you can carry it. Deal?”

Argis clearly knew when to back down. “Deal.”

Lein smiled. “And you can lift it up for me to put my arms in,” he added. “Save me wrenching my back out trying to get it on.” Argis only rolled his eyes at that, but he heaved it up and helped Lein get the straps over his arms. “Right,” Lein said as he adjusted the weight of it on his back. “Now. We have a choice.” He looked over his shoulder at the mountain towering above him. “Up there is a word wall, I can feel it, but it’ll be guarded by a dragon, and it’s a bloody long hike up to Eldersblood Peak. I checked the maps before we left.”

The hazel eye that stared back at him looked wide and full of awe and excitement. “A dragon?” he breathed. “You’re actually going to seek out a dragon?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, if I want to learn new word in their language, I have to find the word walls.” He paused and then added, “But we don’t have to go now if you don’t want to. We can go straight to Morthal.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaimed. “I’d love to!”

“Great,” Lein grinned, setting off at a decent pace after one final look around the campsite to check they had everything.

As they made their way along the riverbank, cutting back up the hillside through a band of tall pines, the mountain seemed to grow higher and taller over them. Argis made him discuss every conceivable weakness in the dragon, and demanded to know what felt like the hundred best ways to bring one down. By the time they were half way up, Lein had exhausted himself with explanations, and had fallen into a puffed silence. The pack was perhaps a little on the heavy side, and, fit though he was, he still hadn’t quite regained his usual trail stamina after his stupidity in Markarth.

A column of wood-smoke drifted up into the clear sky, and as they stumped up the slope to a flattened out corner in the road, a tattooed wood elf sat crouched on an upturned barrel beside a fire, the carcass of a freshly-slain frost troll clearly waiting to be dealt with. He smiled warmly as they tramped up the path, and Lein took the chance to stop and ask him what wildlife there was about. Sweat rolled down his temples and made his hair stick to the back of his neck. He was regretting wearing his fur jacket now, but couldn’t be bothered to take the pack off to remove it.

“Oh, I think there’s another frost troll higher up,” he said cheerily. He had to be easily the friendliest elf Lein had ever met. Normally his kind were sullen and haughty. Perhaps the fresh air had done this one some good. “And I think there’s another lurking in the cave at Cold Rock Pass.” Frowning, the dark-haired Bosmer added, “You going all the way to the top of the peak? There’s a dragon circling around up there you know…”

“Yup,” Lein smiled, enjoying the look of surprise on his face.

The elf looked from Lein to Argis and back again. “You gone bloody mad?”

Another laugh rippled out of Lein and he shook his head. “Quite possibly,” he chuckled. An idea struck him and he undid the straps of his bag, slinging it gently to the ground. Taking off the fur jacket, he rolled it up and opened the top of the bag. Pulling out a bottle of Nord mead, he offered it to the elf. “Reckon it’s probably been a while since you made it into town,” he smiled. “Here.”

“For me?” he asked. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Thank you, divines smile on you, friend,” he said. “This is most welcome.”

“I’m glad.” Wishing the hunter a good day, Lein hoisted the pack back up onto his shoulders, feeling cooler now without the jacket, and the pair left him and continued the winding climb up towards Cold Rock Pass.

Crouching suddenly as an icy blast of wind brought the pungent stench of a frost troll, they both hovered a moment, listening. “Thane,” Argis hissed behind him. “You hear that?”

“You smell that?” Lein replied. He nodded ahead of him and they saw the creature, cavorting about in the seemingly random way of frost trolls, apparently just enjoying the snow. “You think I can get it in one?”

“With your bow, and the way you shoot, yeah,” Argis smiled.

“My honour’s on the line then,” he chuckled. The laugh echoed a little in the tiny passage in the rocks, but the frost troll was too busy farting away in its little section of the path to notice. Lein did bring it down in one shot straight between its piggy little eyes, using his beautiful, supple bow. He saw the way Argis eyed it, and as he straightened out of his crouch, he muttered, “We’ll have to get you one like this.”

“Can’t have me embarrassing you with my little hunting bow?”

“Absolutely. I mean,” Lein said, delicately stepping around the bleeding carcass, “What would they say at court?”

Argis’ laugh boomed out, but it didn’t last very long. “Though… you know,” he murmured, “I’d like one, don’t get me wrong, but… I probably couldn’t afford one…”

Lein halted so suddenly that Argis careered into the back of him with a short ‘oof’ of surprise.

“My thane?”

“I meant I’d have to get you one as a gift,” he said. “I’d never force you to spend your own wages something like that, Argis.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Lein chuckled, shaking his head. “When’s your birthday?”

“Not for a long time,” he said. “Just had it, back in Last Seed.”

“Wish I’d known,” he sighed. “Yule gift then maybe,” Lein said, more to himself than to his housecarl.

“Please,” Argis murmured, “Look, you don’t have to get me anything, really…”

Lein knew that tone. He’d made him uncomfortable again. He sighed. “Think of it as being able to protect your thane better if you’ve got better weapons?” he said hopefully, turning gracefully and putting on his sweetest expression, smiling as he watched Argis’ discomfort melt. “I won’t bring it up again though,” he said. “Come on, we’ve got a dragon to slay.”

The air got colder and colder the higher they climbed, and, pausing on a rock to grab a mouthful of water, Lein put his jacket back on. Reaching the mountaintop wall was a long slog, but when Lein felt the tug of the wall at its strongest yet, like a second, pulsing heartbeat in his chest, he held his hand up to Argis. “Take your pack off. We’ll collect them afterwards. You'll need to be able to move around properly, and maybe dive out of the way… Try and land as many hits as we can if it’s still sitting on the wall when we get there. They like to perch up on the top of them, and you can usually deal some damage while they’re still asleep.”

Argis nodded, looking serious and apprehensive, following behind his thane as they crept forward up the last set of stairs. Behind him, Lein heard the housecarl’s sharp intake of breath as the dragon came into view, sleeping, just as Lein had said it would be, atop the word wall. “By the gods. It's huge.” It was. But it didn't look any bigger than anything Lein had faced alone.

The dragon sat perched on the curving monument, dozing in the freezing blasts that whipped and gusted around the peak. “Frost dragon,” Lein whispered, squinting at the scales glimmering like ice and the enormous wings folded softly by its side. “Good, she won’t like fire.” She was a beautiful thing to behold, and Lein felt that familiar lancing regret in his chest as his bow creaked softly and he took aim. They'd both coated their arrows in a poison which would drain the dragon’s magicka, and while Argis’ hunting bow was powerful, it would be Lein’s daedric Flamekiss that would do the most damage.

“These crosswinds are gonna be a bitch,” Argis muttered as he held the bow effortlessly at full draw, waiting for Lein to loose first.

Nodding, Lein asked, “Ready?”

“As I'll ever be.”

Lein’s arrow sank itself straight into the dragon’s sleeping left eye, while Argis’ shot tore through the muscle at the shoulder of the dragon’s wing. “Nice,” Lein cried as the dragon gave a scream and lurched upwards into the air. “Watch out for that breath. It’ll give you hypothermia in minutes if you get caught in the full blast.”

Enraged by the intrusion and the loss of one eye, the dragon circled the peak a couple of times, screaming and howling her defiance, and each time she swooped close overhead she was forced to rear up again into the snow-filled sky, faced with a small volley of arrows from the two men. Blood spattered down, heavy and red, into the snow from her wounds, and they largely avoided her icy breath by ducking behind the stone columns. Once, Lein got caught in the open, but he countered the dragon’s shout with a fire breath of his own, negating the effects of the dragon’s blast, and he thought if dragons could express surprise, perhaps he saw a flash of it on this one’s face as she got an answering shout yelled back at her.

The fire-bow proved deadly, and on her fourth pass, the dragon lost the strength from her tattered, blood-streaked wings, and came crashing down to shake the frozen earth, powerful jaws snapping and long whip tail thrashing like a bullwhip.

“Stand back!” Lein yelled desperately as Argis got too close to the tail, but before he could reel backwards, the long spines caught him full in the chest. His armour bore the brunt of the force, but he still flew backwards through the air, landing heavily against a stone buttress twenty feet away. “Argis!”

The housecarl staggered and lurched to his feet. His bow was nowhere to be seen, but he still had his greatsword strapped to his back in its scabbard, which he began to draw.

Lein turned on the grounded beast with a snarl, feeling his ability to shout restored, and unleashed a fiery blast at her, which made her whine and cringe before snapping her dagger-sharp teeth shut right in his face. Foul breath, laced with needles of ice, rushed from her open maul, but Lein unsheathed the ebony sword from his belt and in a fluid motion, rammed the blade up into the still-open mouth. A long fang sank deep into his bicep, but he wrenched his blade free before the felled dragon’s head could twist and snap the blade in two with the force of its fall.

Staggering, with blood running down his arm into the snow, Lein ran to Argis. If he'd suffered a concussion, this exposed peak was not the place to stay for long.

“My thane!” he exclaimed in alarm at the sight of the blood on Lein’s arm, painting his hand bright red and dotting the snow in a trail of scarlet behind him. “You're hurt. Quick, get back to the bags. You need a potion.”

“Are you alright?” Lein asked, ignoring the searing pain in his arm. “She knocked you flying like a bowling pin.” The sword suddenly clattered to the stone as the strength went from the muscles and his hand started to go numb.

“I’m fine,” Argis grunted. “Just winded and a bit bruised. I was lucky not to hit my head. Stay there.” He rushed away and returned a few moments later with a huge potion, the red glass marking it out as a healing potion. Lein was glad he always used the same bottles each time, since the man couldn’t read the delicate copperplate writing on the side of the bottle.

Lein drank it and felt the heady rush as the herbs and medicines did their work. As he offered the bottle back to Argis, his hand froze half way through the gesture. “What?”

Argis’ eyes were wide, staring at the carcass of the dragon behind them on the uppermost platform of the peak. In the rush of making sure his housecarl was unhurt, Lein had entirely forgotten about the fact that the dragon’s soul would bind with his in a maelstrom of whirling, burning light and colour. Before he could warn him or explain to Argis what was happening, the roaring grew in his ears until he could see only rippling light, surrounded by a vortex of noise and light as the dragon’s anger and power, its strength and will, became one with his own.

When the storm passed, Lein staggered and gasped, but remained on his feet as the fleeting dizziness passed. It had never become easier. The greybeards had said it would, but each time he absorbed the soul of a dragon it made him feel sick and weak and lightheaded.

“Was… Was that… Did you…?” Argis stammered when it was all over. For once, he hadn’t made any movement to help his thane. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to make himself move.

Lein nodded and watched as Argis’ gaze slid from his thane to the body of the dragon behind him.

“Shor’s bones,” he cursed.

Where, only a minute before, there had been the bloody body of a frost dragon, still adorned in shimmering blue and silver scales, now lay empty grey bones and sightless eye sockets. “Yeah,” Lein said, his voice a harsh croak. “Show’s not over yet though,” he grinned weakly. “Come on.”

Warily walking with him, perhaps half a pace behind, Argis followed Lein to the word wall. “Can you hear that too?” the housecarl asked, unnerved.

Lein nodded. “All the walls contain words in the ancient dragon language. Words of power. What you're hearing is that knowledge reaching out for me.”

“Do I need to… stand back or something?” he asked, sounding ever more uneasy.

Chuckling softly, Lein shook his head. “No. Actually,” he amended, “I have been known to pass out after learning some of the more powerful shouts…” His mismatching blue and brown eyes skimmed the words, and he shrugged. “I should be ok with this one though. It’s a shout to disarm your opponent.”

“Handy,” was all Argis could muster in response.

Lein shrugged. “Some people are more resistant to it, and I don't know all the words to the shout yet. Still,” he said, stepping into the semicircle of the word wall and feeling the first few cords of connection already forming to link him to the ancient knowledge of the dragons, “No harm in expanding one’s vocabulary, right?”

With a wry chuckle, he closed his eyes and opened his hands, opening himself up to the rush of new knowledge and power. The connection was made, the bond forged, and the yelling voices of a thousand dragons pounded against his eardrums. He felt the cry tear itself from his throat, but never heard it. His knees buckled and he lurched to one side, catching himself on the chisel-carved wall before he fell.

The voices went quiet, and his vision went black.

Breathing hard, he let the adrenaline course through his body, filling his muscles until he felt like his skin was itching on the inside. Recovered moments later, he pushed himself off the wall and turned back to Argis. He took one look at his housecarl’s astonished face, and let out a little laugh. “You've gone paler than me,” he snorted. “Come on, now the show’s over. Let's find out what treasure that little lizard was guarding, and head back down, shall we?”

It took Argis a while to fall into step behind him again, but Lein didn't push it. It was a lot to take in the first time. Casting his housecarl a sideways glance, he smiled. The big Nord was staring at him with a mixture of awe and apprehension on his scarred, tattooed face.

Lein knew that look. He'd seen it in villages and towns the land over, any time he felled a dragon and claimed its soul where there were witnesses, they all wore that dumbstruck, fearful expression. Usually it meant they left him alone, but occasionally the children, and sometimes the adults, would crowd around him, firing questions at him a mile a minute, demanding to know how he did it, if he was could do a shout for them, and if he was going to use the Voice to shout Ulfric Stormcloak out of the kingdom.

Lost in thought, he almost missed the chest tucked away beside the wall, but, cranking its heavy lid open, he saw an ebony shield, a little glass dagger which crackled with energy, a pair of plate gauntlets, a sapphire, and a purse of gold. Pulling the shield out, he held it up to Argis. “You fancy this?”

Argis’ eyes went wide again and he bit his lip. “Yeah,” he rasped, “I mean, if you don't, that is…”

“Can't stand shields,” he chuckled, holding it out to the other man. “I get that they're useful and all, but I'm so clumsy with one. And usually they're too heavy for me anyway.” As if to emphasise his point, he grunted with effort as he held it in front of him. It dipped as his arm shook, and Argis laughed, taking it up easily and sliding his hand into the straps.

“Feels good,” he said. “Nice balance…”

“Then it's yours. You want these gauntlets too? Otherwise I'll sell them and the dagger when I get the chance. Won't make that much, but it’s not to be scoffed at.” As before, he divided the gold in half, and, yet again, the act seemed to take Argis by surprise. He accepted it with the same uncertainty, but Lein just grinned at him.

The cold began to bite into his skin despite his furs, and he shivered.

“We should get off this exposed peak,” Argis commented, eyes lingering on the way the snow drifted and whipped around the area, gusting over the tops of the walls. “Weather’s closing in.”

They slung their packs back on, bundled up against the cold, and left Eldersblood Peak behind them. Lein glanced back and watched the wall disappear into the swirling white snow. The temperature was dropping fast. “You’re right. Storm’s coming.”

Cairns topped with ragged banners flapped and cracked in the wind as they wound their way down the mountain path. Wind roared and moaned between the rocks, and particles of ice lanced through the air. Argis slipped on an ice-glazed stone and landed hard on his backside with a grunt, and a little while later, Lein would have done the same, had he not steadied himself by snatching for a sharp piece of rock beside him. It tore a gash in his palm, but he’d healed it with a spell before Argis could even reprimand him for not paying attention to where he was going.

Lein was glad he’d decided to leave the bones where they were. He reckoned he’d schlepped enough dragon bone across Skyrim to recreate the skeletons of half a hundred of the beasts, and he wasn't in need of the cash the bones would bring at a city trader’s either. He noticed how Argis had avoided the skeleton altogether as they'd left the platform, and he couldn't blame him. There was a strange energy to all places that were linked to the dragons, and even those with no magical gifts could feel something.

Rounding a rocky bluff, they caught the winter wind full in the face, cruel shards of ice slicing at their cheeks. Argis gave a soft grunt, turning his face away, while Lein actually let out a yelp as one struck him in his blue eye. Turning away, he rubbed fiercely at it, cursing.

“You alright?” Argis asked, automatically stepping across to shield him from the worst of the wind while he stood with his shoulders hunched, complaining.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just got some in my eye.” As he turned to resume their progress, he caught sight of a crack in the rock. “Cold Rock Pass,” he murmured, a mischievous grin kindling on his handsome, wind-burned face. “Wonder if there's treasure inside. Wanna find out?”

“There's probably nothing but a frost troll in there. You sure?”

“Yeah, come on,” he smirked. “Unless you're all ‘adventured out’ after the dragon…” Whether it was the lingering adrenaline from the fight, or the head-rush from learning the shout, he wasn’t sure, but he capered off towards the opening like a lamb through spring grass.

Chuckling, Argis followed him more carefully to the entrance of the pass without complaint. They quickly learned where the cave got its name, discovering that it was quite possibly colder inside than outside, with thick sheets of glistering ice coating the walls and floor. There was, however, the sound of water splashing from further ahead.

Sacks of old flour and vegetables, preserved and frozen solid by the ice, stood in a little pile just inside, and he noted a corundum ore vein to his left as he snuck up a short slope into the larger cavern inside. The stench of troll burned his nose and he lifted his bow from his back once more. The troll never saw the arrow that killed it, and it went down with a crash and a bellow that echoed around the walls like a shout in a temple. Nothing else moved in the cave, and Lein straightened confidently, returning the bow to its hook as he slung his pack off to explore the cave with more freedom.

Despite the fact that his teeth were chattering, his mood was high and bright as he flitted around the cave, exploring the corners and looking for stashed treasure like a squirrel after a nut. In no time he had found a chest with a coin purse and some refined malachite, which he stuffed into his pack, and as he turned away, he saw the body of a bandit lying on the thick ice beside a gushing waterfall. Heedless of any danger, he stepped out onto the ice and crossed to the corpse. The bandit was frozen solid, and as he turned it over, hoping to find some lock picks as he'd snapped a couple of his last ones, he heard the ice give a deep, sonorous crack.

“Lein, get out of there,” Argis called the moment he heard it. “The ice isn't going to hold you and that body. Move!”

But as he dropped the stiff corpse and tried to spring for the stable ground of the rock where Argis stood, he felt the world dip beneath him, and with another crack like breaking bone, the ice gave way, plunging him into the water of the pool beneath him.

Argis lunged at him with a bellow, but missed.

The pool wasn't deep, but the cold bit deep into his bones, and his lungs stopped working instantly. Fighting against the pain, the water burning his skin like acid, Lein flailed hopelessly. His feet caught the bottom and he pushed upwards, hands reaching, jerking, up to where Argis was kneeling on the edge of the rock, stretching out his own hand. “Come on!” the housecarl thundered. “Reach!”

Lein didn't feel his fingers catch Argis’ but he was hauled from the pool and was up on the frozen rock before he realised it. Gasping and shaking, he fell like a landed fish at Argis’ feet. I am such an idiot, he thought. Why do I never think anything through?

Argis’ brain was mercifully thinking more practically, and he said, “Thane, you're going to need to get out of those wet furs. If you don't, you'll die. You’ll freeze to death” He dragged Lein up out of the half-frozen puddle he was lying in, and began to delve into his thane’s pack for some dry clothes.

Lein couldn't feel anything other than pain. Well, perhaps there was an undercurrent of shame beneath it all, but still, he was overwhelmed by how much it hurt. His muscles cramped tight and his lungs spasmed. He didn't notice that he'd stopped shivering.

When Argis saw him lying there, immobile, hardly breathing, lips blue, he swore and fumbled to remove the heavy, waterlogged fur jacket Lein had been wearing to keep the wind and snow out. With his torso naked, his scarred skin bare and pale as the ice walls around them, he felt no difference. Unable to sit up, he let Argis stuff his arms into a linen shirt and then into something else that was far too big for him. His leather trousers were a battle to get off, and Lein cringed as the backs of his bare thighs touched cold stone for a moment. The touch hurt like he’d touched hot iron. He thought he heard Argis apologise, and then he said, “Thane, you'll… You'll need to undress… You can't stay in wet… um…”

But Lein couldn't move, every muscle was locked up.

“Fuck,” Argis hissed, “I'm sorry.”

Lein wasn't able to feel anything, and he closed his eyes, wishing the pain would stop. Perhaps a flame spell would warm him? He tried to conjure some fire in his hand, but at a sharp cry of alarm from Argis, he lost concentration and the magicka fled. Whether it was from the effort of trying to wield magic, or from the energy his body was trying to use to warm him up again, Lein wasn't sure, but he felt his mind go blank around the edges, and he tipped back into exhaustion without complaint.

When he woke, he felt cold wind on his face again, and a strange, lurching sensation, like being on a horse. He cracked his eyes open and found he had his chest pressed against the soft weave of a shirt. “It’s too cold to be wearing that,” he tried to say, but it came out only as a mere, “Too cold.”

“Almost there,” he heard as a deep, rumbling response.

“Argis,” he whispered. And then he began to shiver. His shivering gained momentum, and shortly he was shaking so violently that it became spasming. He heard Argis swear again, and tell him to hold on.

Woodsmoke. The sharp, rich smell of woodsmoke filled his mind and he heard a shout, followed by an answering rumble from Argis. He didn’t catch what words were exchanged, but soon he was being bundled up inside a warm, dark tent, the soft folds of a thick bedroll engulfing his quivering body. There was the hum of more conversation, and then a soft sigh and a shuffle in the shadows beside him. He thought he heard Argis whisper, “Forgive me,” before he became aware of a delicious warmth behind his back and a pressure around his waist.

He nuzzled into it, letting the heat soak into his skin, and then he drifted off again into dark oblivion.

Chapter Seven

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