A Question of Fate Options

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Brief Intro By The Author

A Question of Fate would be the title of my piece.

I have been back and forth about trying to start and post a fan fic piece. The idea has always intrigued me, but I never considered myself to be a writer, let alone a good writer. I have read a sampling of some of the works that are posted on this site, and quite frankly, it is intimidating. The material is amazing. I must say say that despite the intimidation, it is also inspiring. So I am willing to throw caution to the wind and go for it. There are a few provisos. I work for a living. Often times, the hours I work are long. There may be periods of dormancy in this thread. I will apologize in advance for that. Life outside the internet does have it's restrictions. Also, I am sure that there is an unspoken etiquette that states, "You read mine and comment, and I shall do the same". This is also where I could run into trouble, for the same reasons that there may be dormant periods in this thread. There are stories on this site that I could never hope to read all the way through, with triple digit page counts, while I try to keep posting my own story and work through everyday life. So, with all that being said, I will wait to start posting chapters until I get a sense of what the audience demands. Please let me know if I should start posting a fan fic piece, based on what you have just read.

Thanks.

EDIT - This was originally posted in "General Discussion"

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: May 4 2013, 04:41 AM

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

First things first...

@ SubRosa - I love the idea of using an old Black Horse Courier for coloring paper! How perfect! -- What else are they good for? I actualy got the idea watching my step-son color on a kiddie placemat when we went out for dinner a while back.

I've already said it a couple times, but I have to thank you again for your help with "head-hopping". You ROCK!

@ jack cloudy - More flashbacky goodness! -- Thanks! I find that I am really enjoying writing the Interludes. It makes me think outside the box.

@ Grits - If the bandits put a “Push” sign up they might not need a guard. -- To borrow a mALX-ism, there was a near Mt. Dew SPEW when I read that! Glad you enjoyed the door fiasco, and thanks!

@ mALX - LOVED how you wrote how the shock spell worked - and explained Val's not wanting that book in the dungeon! -- Thanks so much! That dungeon flashback was actually the inspiration for this whole chapter.

@ Darkness Eternal - Time to officially catch up. -- And you're almost there! Thanks for sticking with it and for your most kind comments.

Thanks again everyone! Now, back to the story...

Previously: Valrimor had cleared Embershard Mine of bandits, leaving none alive, and was getting a well deserved nap after his sneaking and sniping…

Chapter 12 – Up to the Barrow

20th Last Seed, 4E 201

After my rest, it took me several hours to search Embershard Mine for Lucan’s claw. Unfortunately, the artifact still eluded me, but the search itself proved to be quite lucrative. I was able to leave the mine with considerably more coin than I entered with, along with several gems that I was sure would bring a nice price. It was impossible to haul out every saleable item in one trip. But if necessary, I could return for more.

I returned to Riverwood almost a full twenty-four hours from the time I had left Lucan’s shop, and The Riverwood Trader was my first destination now that I was back. I wanted to give my employer an update, as well as turn the gems I had found into coins. He was standing behind the counter when I entered, and seemed eager to hear what I had to say.

“I’m glad to see you back in one piece. So tell me, did you find those damned thieves?” he inquired.

“Well, I did find thieves. But apparently they were not the ones responsible for stealing your artifact. I searched every nook and cranny in Embershard Mine. There was no claw to be found. However, I did find these,” I said as I placed several gemstones on his counter.

“Nice! Very nice indeed!” he said, holding one up to a lantern and peering through it.

“Would you care to buy them? I need more cash to better equip myself before I head out for Bleak Falls Barrow and continue the search for your claw,” I asked, emphasizing the incentive for him to purchase the stones.

“Certainly, I’ll give you two hundred Septims for the lot,” Lucan offered.

It was less than I had hoped for, but I agreed to Lucan’s price. He paid me, and after telling him that I would be making a fresh start in the morning for the barrow, I bade him a good day and left the shop. I went straight to Alvor’s to purchase the hunting bow that I had been coveting. Between the gold that Lucan had paid for the gems, and the additional coin I garnered for selling a few pieces of fur armor to Alvor, I now had plenty of cash for the bow and additional arrows to restock my quiver. The hunting bow was nothing close to the quality of my own Elven bow, which was undoubtedly now part of the ruins of Helgen. However, it was substantially better than the long bow I had been using. First of all, the limbs had recurves. Also, the nocks for the bowstring were clad in steel. The long bow had been one single piece of wood, but this bow had separate limbs connected at a riser, with an arrow rest and a leather clad grip. Alvor even threw in a couple spare bowstrings and let me test the bow first behind his shop. I shot three arrows in rapid succession. All three flew true and hit within an inch of each other, clustered in the bulls-eye of the target. Extremely pleased with my new acquisition, I left the shop.

It was another gorgeous day and I suddenly had the urge for a walk in the woods. I could use the rest of the afternoon to harvest for an evening alchemy session, and perhaps even bag a deer. Few things in life are better than an afternoon stroll through a forest. The abundance of life, the aroma of wildflowers and pine, and the thrill of a hunt all have a quickening effect on my heart and will invariably bring a smile to my lips. I was already grinning with a spring in my step when I left the settlement.

* * *

Later that evening I was seated at a table in The Sleeping Giant. I mopped up the last of my stew from my bowl with a piece of bread, ate it, and chased it down with the last of my wine. The bard was singing an ode to someone named Ragnar the Red. Orgnar passed by and I requisitioned another goblet of wine. Minutes later, he returned with it and took my dishes back with him. The wine was a dry white with a slight smokey undertone. It was delicious indeed.

The day had been a good one. I had elevated my status from destitute to nearly solvent. My sojourn into the woods had led to a deer kill and a fine harvest of various fungi and flora. I was able to barter the deer hide and some coin into a full set of camping gear. I also had made good use of the inn’s alchemy table, concocting some healing potions and some poisons to replace the spider venom I had used in the mine. I sat back in my chair with a smile as the bard concluded his song with a line about Ragnar’s red head rolling on a floor. Gulping down the rest of the goblet, I rose and headed to my room for a good night’s sleep. There was no telling what tomorrow’s trek might bring, so rest seemed the wise choice regardless of how good the wine tasted.

* * *

21st Last Seed, 4E 201

The morning was grey and chilly. Low hanging clouds obscured the summits of the nearby mountains. The damp air threatened rain as I left the inn and headed north along the main road. It was such a complete difference from the day before, but I had heard that the weather was quick to change in Skyrim. Still, this felt more like the verge of winter than a late summer day in Last Seed.

I had checked all of my provisions and was satisfied that I had everything I would need. After crossing the river, I stayed to the left and followed the crude path that started upward toward my next task. Lucan had told me that there would be an old abandoned tower just a few hundred yards before the barrow. The first drops of rain began to fall well before I had located the landmark. By the time the tower was in sight, I had passed the snow line on the mountain and the rain had turned to mostly sleet. It was coming down at a much steadier pace. The wind was coming in cold gusts down the mountainside, occasionally causing the ice pellets to sting my cheeks.

The tower was in disrepair and looked as if it might topple at any moment. But what truly caught my attention was the glow of a lantern near its base. If the barrow was indeed a thieves’ den, it would only make sense that they would have an outpost here. Crouching and creeping slowly, I approached with an arrow at the ready on my bowstring. I managed to get very close without detection. A guard, for lack of a better term, was pacing a stone bridge that led to the entrance of the tower. He would disappear through the doorway and return at regular intervals. A woman with red war paint on her face was standing with her back to a spruce tree, undoubtedly seeking shelter from the precipitation beneath its boughs. Both sides of her head were shaved bald, leaving a shock of hair that stood straight up in a row that ran along the center of her scalp. After timing the guard’s trip, I added more red to the paint on her face with an arrow shot through her head and into the spruce trunk.

I’m getting good at tacking bandits to trees…

The guard evidently didn’t hear the arrow hit the tree, but immediately noticed something amiss upon his return and drew his sword. It was the last thing he would ever notice in his lifetime, thanks to an arrow through his breastbone. His sword clattered on the bridge deck as he fell off the stone arch, landing with a muffled thud on the snow below.

I looked at the old keep and debated whether or not to enter. The odds were slim that the claw would be in the tower, but I could not risk it. I was crossing the stone archway toward the entrance just in time to see it filled by what may have been the largest man I had ever seen. He had biceps as big as my thighs and thighs as big as my waist. I tried to stop myself, but a film of sleet had collected on the bridge. Instead of stopping and retreating, I lost my footing and sat down hard, biting on my tongue as my backside met the stone. Searing pain and blood filled my mouth instantly. My bow skittered away from me on the same carpet of ice pellets that had robbed me of my footing.

The huge Nord gave a yell and charged, raising an enormous war hammer as he did so. I tried to get up, but kept slipping, unable to get a foothold. I scrambled backward, looking and feeling akin to a mudcrab on a frozen pond. By chance, my hand found the sword of my earlier victim. Without hesitating, I grabbed it and launched it toward my attacker as hard as I could. It spun through the air, end over end. Because the Nord had both arms raised to deal a blow with the hammer, he was exposed and vulnerable. The point of the twirling sword found the bandit’s throat in an amazing stroke of luck. He stood there, momentarily dumbfounded, and then toppled over the side of the bridge. I stared for a second, equally dumbfounded, and then laid back, looking at the sky and sighing with relief. The sleet had started mixing with snow. Ice pellets and snowflakes were hitting me in the face as I took a moment to catch my breath.

I need a drink!

That thought motivated me to investigate the building. Not just for the claw, but for some ale or mead to numb my bleeding tongue. I spat a crimson stain on the bridge to try and get rid of some of the coppery taste that filled my mouth. I didn’t want to waste a healing potion on something as petty as a bleeding tongue. I gathered my bow and continued toward the entrance. Inside the tower, I did not find the claw during my search. However, I did find a couple bottles of ale and just over fifty Septims in a leather pouch. Even better, I found a healing potion, so I could heal my tongue after all. After doing so, I chugged down one bottle of ale, and then leisurely drank the other on my way out. I raised the bottle in a mock toast to my fallen attackers as I passed.

“Here’s to ya,” I quipped, and made my way toward the barrow in what had become a full blown snow storm.