Sons of the Snow, A Skyrim Tale Options

[Rohirrim]

Chapter One: A Dawn in Fire
24th Frostfall, 4E 194, 8 Bells after Noon
Mandel Skjori, 18

He was sitting on his bed when it happened. His brother, Klargus, and his sister, Svelki, were with him. Their parents were outside, getting all the livestock in for the night. He and his siblings were talking about the weather, worried it might mean an early winter. Deep in the Pale, early winter was a grave matter. Even so, the conversation was lighthearted. They knew that come death or daedra, the divines would provide. They always did. Even after the great Skeever-Plague of 187, when half their stock was killed, the animals were breeding prolifically that spring. It was then that they heard it: the dull thud of hooves on snow. A moment later they heard shouting, and the terrified lowing of cattle. All three siblings rushed to the door, throwing it open. Mandel was the first to see them.

Riders, fast ones, with fire in their hands. They hurled torches at the roof of the house, setting it ablaze. The packed mixture of dung and straw was almost cruelly perfect for such a task. It caught almost instantly, and the flames were at least half the height of the house. He could see, when he forced himself to turn away, others driving away their cattle, setting fire to the chicken coop, even the mill. Mandel saw his father stumble through the snow, out of the darkness, pulling his mother behind him. His face was a mask of rage, his brow contorted in an inhuman anger, and he did something Mandel had never seen him do. He knew his father had the Battlecry, all Nords did, but he never thought he would use it. His father was a man of peace, a farmer and a devout follower of the teachings of Kyne. Some of the horses threw their riders, but the rest were almost unfazed.

Laughter, loud and cruel, erupted from the ranks of the horsemen. Mandel was almost ready to charge at them, no matter how suicidal, when suddenly, an arrow came whizzing out of the dark and struck his mother in the chest. His father, now mad with an emotion that defied description, a combination of anger and deep, deep sorrow, ran at the horsemen. Before he could do anything, though, a man who looked to be their leader rode forward and struck Mandel's father in the face with his sword. He was dead before he hit the ground. He had to be. The way he fell, it was final. Mandel felt this in his being, not knowing where the knowledge came from. All he knew was that he had to get what remained of his family away from here, away from these men. "Run!" He grabbed his siblings by their sleeves and pulled them with him, running like a wounded deer being chased.

And yet, chased he was not. When several of the riders made ready to pursue them, the leader held up his hand. "Let them go," he said, in a voice that spoke not of any race or heritage. Plain, unaccented Cyrodiilic. It was almost so perfect as to be unnerving. "I have plans for them, when the time comes. Let us leave, this cold is unbearable." He and his men rode away, away into the blackness of the autumn night.

Mandel was over the hill that surrounded his family's home when he heard an ear-splitting noise, like the noise a flag makes in the wind, only much, much louder. With this sound came a light, a blinding orange flash that shifted to a subtle glow. Mandel looked back towards the place he had called home, known since birth, and saw only destruction. He realized what had happened. The sacks of flour in the mill had exploded, as well as the many minuscule bits of flour and chaff on the cracks between the stones that the mill was built on.

He cried as he looked on, knowing that there was nothing left of his old life. He knew that for him, and his family, life was about to start anew. Klargus looked at him, his sweet blue eyes now widened in fear. Klargus was youngest, 16, and was both the largest and gentlest of the three. "What are we going to do, Mandel?" Svelki looked to him as well. She was the middle child, 17, and she had followed in the steps of her mother, learning basic Conjuration and Restoration spells. "I know that it is unfair, looking to you for guidance, when you must feel the same way we do, but we don't have anyone else to turn to. We trust you, Mandel. We will follow you, to the gates of Oblivion if we must." Mandel looked at his brother and sister, his tears drying on his face. "I'll tell you what we are going to do. We're going to find somewhere to sleep, and then we're going to retrieve what we can from home in the morning." All three dug themselves a hollow in the snow, and curled up, each using their cloak as a blanket. Mandel lay awake for hours. He may not have known it, but that fire would fuel his thirst for justice, and it would make him into the man he was inside: Dovahkiin.

This post has been edited by Rohirrim: Sep 14 2013, 03:39 AM

[Rohirrim]

Chapter Two: Exodus


27th Frostfall, 4E 194, Ten of the Morning Watch
Mandel


"We've arrived," he said as they stepped into the smoking shantytown of the Dawnstar mines. The shouts of miners and sailors, and the squalls of gulls permeated the air, along with trash fires and the smell of roasting gods-know-what. The siblings were walking along a narrow alley between a smithy and a tavern. Both were insufferably loud. Mandel tried to block out the noise by recounting the events of the past two days.

They had given their parents a burial, though no remains were found. Mandel placed the surcoat and helm on a wreath of snowberries, and Svelki haltingly read the blessing her mother had taught her. "May Mara preserve you, Arkay guide you, and Talos receive you." They had departed tearfully, carrying what they could. There was nothing for them there, but Mandel swore an oath, that by the Gods, they would return. And they would make a life anew. It was only right to honor their parents in this way.

They were looking for someone in Dawnstar, an old friend. Corporis Fumo, the Plague Doctor. He had cured them and their parents in that year of 187, and took no fee. Mandel could not remember much about him, only he was shrouded in the smoke produced by that bird-beaked mask. He shivered. The man was kind, but...no honest man would mask his face. Of course, they wouldn't have to find him if not for Mandel's stupidity. He had broken his arm after falling down into a gully. Svelki had manged to keep it stable, but she couldn't mend the break. She'd used Restoration to sew the muscles together, than a mild Alteration spell to keep the arm from moving. It hurt like all get thee hence, but he could bear it. They knew he lived in the slums, impoverished as he was. After about a half hour of rumors, questions and bribes, they found it. It was a one-room cabin, decent looking enough for a respectable healer.

They stepped inside. Immediately choked from the smoke of a fire burning in the hearth, they covered their noses and mouths. They saw him sitting in a chair by the fire, smoking, of all things. "Corporis? It's me, Mandel Skjori. You knew my father." "The Doctor stood, speaking in a lilting accent through his mask. "My, my, Mandel. How you've grown. I am here, nearly an old, blind man, and you are only just beginning to...realize your full potential." He coughed and, to the children's surprise, threw a pail of water on the fire, letting the room be lit by the candles on the hearth. He then, also surprisingly, took off his mask to reveal the face of a young, dark-haired Imperial. "I reckon I can drop the act with you three, since you seem in urgent need of my services." "But...I thought you were an old disfigured blind man!" "Nah, just part of the mystique. I was an actor before I attended the Collegium Alchemicum. I was sent here and...I kind of made up this little character for myself. It helps me forget my money worries. Oh, and my name's Miller. Windy Miller."

They all stared at him for a minute or so. "Riiiiight. Well, um, yes... I have a broken arm, if you could, um, do your healing thing...like you do." "Certainly," the doctor said, hovering over the arms, his hands expertly poised, "Svelki, my girl, would you please dispel your Oakflesh?" Svelki did so. "Wonderful. Now, this will hurt, so brace yourself," he said as he placed his hands on either side of the break, gleaming with a soft golden light. Mandel sucked in his breath and bit down on his coat sleeve, while Klargus took the liberty of restraining his legs. Windy narrowed his eyes, and scowled, counting in a slow, concentrated voice. "One, two, three!" He swept his hands from the break to the shoulder and wrist on either side. The result was the two sections of bone snapping together forcefully. "Fokke! Fokkefokkefokkefokke!" He raised his arm, testing it. "Oh...skitt, that hurt." Klargus and Svelki breathed a sigh of relief, and Windy stood up, dusting his hands. "That was a nasty break," he said, wiping the sweat from his face. "You're lucky it didn't turn gangrenous."

All of the children were starting towards the door when a loud pounding sound came from outside, accompanied by a hoarse voice. "Open up, old man! We have some questions for you!" Windy Miller tensed, motioning toward the back of the room. The siblings ran back, hiding behind the square hearth and chimney. Windy dropped a smoking bundle of lavender into his mask, strapping it on and stoking the fire in the hearth, filling the room with smoke. Mandel also saw him pick up a thin-bladed dagger. He hunched himself over, opening the door. "Yes? What is it you want of me? I am only a poor old healer, and I have no money." Two armored men shoved their way in, their faces hidden by helms, and drew swords. "Can it, geezer. We know they're here. Got a tip from a very reliable source. A fresh puff of smoke filled the room, darkening it even more. The sickly sweetness of the lavender was nauseating. "I do not know what you mean. I have not even a cat for company, ever since my dear wife passed so many years ago. Sweet Lucinda...how I miss her." "Don't play dumb, old fool. We saw the children come in. we have orders to kill them, straight from the Jarl's desk. They are assassins wanted in all nine holds."

Windy cocked his head, then nodded. "I think, perhaps, I know who you mean. Please, step back here..." Mandel was about to kill the man when Windy stepped behind one of the warriors and stabbed him in the back of the neck. Before his companion could counter, Mandel stepped forward and cut him down. He was surprised he knew how. The man's plate gave way surprisingly easy to the blackened iron blade. After they both fell to the floor, Windy stabbed them both again after removing their helmets. He took off the mask, his face drenched with sweat. "Those men were probably affiliated with those who attacked your farm. Even if not, they have friends in high places. This is knight's armor. For a pair of thugs, this is not even a dream. And it bears no standard, so they're not from a mercenary army or one of the belligerents in our quaint little war."

"This is some serious skitt you're into, kids. I need to think. In the mean time, just stay here. don'tgo outside, whatever you do." Windy sat down in a chair by the fire, deep in thought. He then went to a chest in the back of the house, pulling out several scrolls and books, poring over them for several hours. He eventually came to the children, holding two small scrolls and three coin purses. He spoke, with a grave look on his face.

"I know this is going to be hard but...you have to split up. Three people traveling separately are harder to track, and, I suppose, kill, than a group of three. I have some money saved I use to help the poor, and I'll divvy it up between you. Klargus, you have no wish to be a warrior. The Bard's College is for you. Svelki, the College of Winterhold. Feralda is a friend of mine, and they're always looking to bolster the ranks. Mandel, you'll go to Whiterun, find work with the militia. The Companions are not for you, not yet, but a bunch of young men like yourself will whet your blade fine. Now, here's your coin, and here's a commendation for you, Klargus and Svelki."

The three siblings looked at each other, tearful. They knew he was right, it made perfect sense. But the idea was so...wrong. They had been through everything together, but now they had to go their own way. "I love you both," Mandel said, embracing his brother and sister. "Come find me if you need anything, anything, do you hear? Send a courier, even." Svelki spoke, her voice quavering. "We'll come back home, someday. But we need to grow, become strong. We need to become Ma and Da, only the children our ourselves." She smiled through her tears. "After a year, let's meet up at home and swap stories of our adventures, eh?" Klargus was smiling now, too. "I'll regale you with my poems and sonnets. It will be great. Now, are we ready, Skjoris, or aren't we?" Mandel cracked a grin. "Damn right we are. Let's go, and you kids better damn well write, eh?" They walked out the door, engaged in one final long embrace, and went their separate ways. Windy sighed as he watched them go. They were going to have a hard time of it, those kids, but...he believed in them. He looked at the bodies in his cabin, and sighed again. He was going to have to get rid of those. Oh, well.

This post has been edited by Rohirrim: Oct 3 2013, 01:48 AM