Trouble never comes alone Options

[jack cloudy]

Yes, so I just couldn't resist and had to get this off my chest. We'll see how long it lasts. Same deal as with redemption, I'll be using this post as a character list and the first part will be in the next one. For now the list is simple.

A question. Should I add a separate entry for Spar at the very bottom that is basically the extra-spoilers edition?

Spar: A female Imperial and the main character of this story. Is guided by 'Them'.
(Portrait)

Silent Fist: A Companion Spar hires to escort her into Bleak Falls Barrow. He doesn't speak, wear shirts or use weapons. Click here for portrait

Faendal: A wood elf who lives in a small village known as Riverwood. He works as a hunter and lumberjack.

Lucan Valerius: The shopkeeper of Riverwood.

Jarl Balgruuf: The Jarl of Whiterun, a city located in the center of Skyrim between the fronts of the Imperial and Stormcloak factions.

Hrongar: Jarl Balgruuf's brother. Looks like he walked off the set of a Conan-film.

Irileth: A Dunmer who serves as Jarl Balgruuf's bodyguard.

Proventus Avenicci: Jarl Balgruuf's steward.


Vilkas: One of the Companions, a mercenary group in Whiterun
Vignar Grey-Mane: Formerly of the Companions, now retired.

Ulfric Stormcloak: The rebel leader in Skyrim, once on of the Emperor's generals.

Arkarik: Someone Spar was supposed to meet in Cyrodiil.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Aug 1 2013, 06:34 PM

[jack cloudy]

And here's the climax. After this just some tying up and we're ready for chapter 2.


Chapter 1.15


What could I do? All I had were the cube, my knife and the strange mask. Neither were going to stop a dragon. Unless...
"No" Them simply said to my idea. A stone fragment struck my back and I grimaced. I couldn't just sit here and wait to die. Which was pretty much all that Them could come up with.
"You're absolutely useless." I muttered and shut the voice out. I'd survived so far on doing stupid things. One more time wasn't so hard now.


Quickly I fastened the mask to my face. It was a loose fit but it would do. The tower shook again as the dragon threw itself against it. For a moment I thought it was odd that it hadn't broken through yet. It was as if it was trying to bring the structure down in a controlled manner. I waited till right after it struck the building once more, then I sprinted for the door, threw off the board and kicked it open. The two guards and their thoughts on my actions weren't in my mind. All that existed now was the dragon.


It caught sight of me almost immediately and paused. Was it confused at the appearance of someone who wore the mask of its guardian? I recalled the carvings on the walls in the Barrow. Winged men and processions watched over by the head of a dragon. I had been right all along. No, Farengar had been right. Dragons were worshipped in the past. So the men I'd seen were head-worshippers. Priests. Then the knife I held was not a weapon, but a tool of sacrifice.
"Blood turned into fire." I thought.


The dragon lowered its head and let out a deep rumble. But it didn't attack. I brought up my hands, one empty, the other holding the boneblade. Its edge went across my palm and sliced. I squeezed and let blood fall. The thick droplets didn't change into flames though.
"Symbolic exaggeration. Hope bleeding to death suffices."
It sat down on its hunches and stared at me now. I hadn't been burned or eaten yet though which I took as a good sign.
"I might just pull this," I thought. Then the mask slipped and fell away.


"Tafiir Nikrin." The dragon said to me and then rose up to pounce. Instantly I took the cube out and put my knife to it. The beast froze again but said nothing more. Its head swung back across its flank for a moment then returned to me. It was hard to keep a grip on the little stone box. My own blood was making the already slick surface even more slippery.
"The Jarl rallied. Of course. I made it too desperate." Whiterun had gone dark and whatever troops Balgruuf had sent carried no light. That meant they were slow and had to keep to the road. It also meant I had to keep the dragon pacified for quite a while longer. Just threatening its treasure wouldn't work. I needed more.


It had definitely uttered words. If I'd held any thoughts of it being just an animal, they were gone now. It could communicate. And that meant it could be manipulated.
"But I don't know Dragonish. What other languages would it know?" I had but three options. Modern Cyrodiilic, very crude modern Skyrimese and the first language ever conceived. Daedric. I didn't need to think what choice to make.
"It seems we are at an impasse. Care to negotiate?"


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The dragon seemed as surprised by my words as I had been by its. It needed a moment to clear its thoughts and form its next speech.
"Roti Nimuz. Rah Niwahlaan! Daedroth! Taazokaan Nisuleyksejuni!" Only one word was known to me. Daedroth. It believed I was a Daedra. That was not something I could take advantage of, but it had also let slip that it could understand what I was saying. Now that I could use.


"Refusing to use a language you are fluent in. You are a proud one. But it would help your case if you stepped off your throne and actually deigned to converse in a way that accomplishes mutual understanding." I said and waited for an answer. None came so after a while I shrugged.


"Your loss then."


The arrow stuck in its throat was still there. With all the flying around and towerbashing the being had done today, I considered it a miracle it hadn't fallen out yet. Right above it there was a bulge, a ridge that swelled and sank in a regular rythm. It was protected by an extra layer of thick scales that more resembled shields than a skin so it had to be important. Some sort of oversized Jugular?
"This is an interesting stone, isn't it? Or a box I should say." I said and lifted the cube slightly, being careful to keep the tip of the knife on it at all times. I had to keep the dragon thinking. As long as it was thinking it wasn't killing me and the army could get closer. If only I could get my blade between those plates. It was the best chance at killing the giant I had yet seen. But I'd be dead before I'd made a single step that way.


I had no idea what was inside the container. Going by the lack of weight and sound when shaken, I concluded that it was something soft and light. Probably a document of some sort.
"Yes, I solved the lock. It was only a simple rotational puzzle, a Scamp could do it. So, once again it is your loss. I already copied and documented the contents. So unfortunate you can't sense a replica."


The dragon protested loudly at that. Just where was its voice coming from? Its mouth didn't move in any perceivable manner when it spoke and it was far too large for proper vocalizing anyway. It sounded less like a voice really than a loud echo. In any case, I couldn't afford to be distracted now.
"It is rather useless to make demands when you know your words won't be understood. But I assume you have a brain and that therefore you were saying something along the lines of 'please tell me where the copies are'. Desires and needs. Now that's something we can negotiate on."



The 'negotiations' that followed were completely one-sided. And really it wasn't so much negotiating as me trying to win time while bluffing as little as possible. The dragon's continual refusal to use a proper language helped in this as it gave me plenty of opportunities to profess a measure of ignorance. Our conversation ended however when the watchtower came down around us.


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A particularly large boulder struck the dragon right on the end of its snout, between the two steaming nostrils. The giant smacked into the ground and collapsed.


"That's right! Don't mess with the sons of Skyrim! Bringer of the end-times? Hah! I spit on your bones and piss on your mother!"


I looked up at the yelling. Jorlof and his friend were standing atop the ramparts, shaking their fists at the air in triumph. The idiots had courage I supposed, but it was too early to claim victory. The dragon had battered several fortified structures into submission with its head. Just one small rock wasn't going to lay it out. It was meant to be dropped on distinctly human infantry, not a mythical creature almost as big as the tower they stood on. The Nords had just been lucky they hit it on a relatively soft and sensitive part, instead of the reinforced bonecrest that guarded its eyes and the top of its skull.


Within moments the dragon reawoke and got back onto its feet. It shook its head back and forth and hissed at the two men from Whiterun. "Dukaanu. Ahraani."


Now was my chance, and the last option I had left. The guards might have had a deathwish, but they did manage to avert attention from myself. I sprang forward, dropping the cube in the process. The dragon didn't notice as it was completely occupied with punishing the earlier transgression. It aimed upwards for the top of the tower, something which appeared to be difficult for it to do with the heavy plates running over the back of its neck. It had to take a big step back to get the right angle, which only meant a few more paces for me to run.


I slipped between its hindlegs and followed its belly. The crushed remains of debris and some arrows caked its scales here. I thought about adding my own and faltered for a moment. Were there any vital organs or arteries here? Likely, but my knife simply wasn't long enough to get through the skin and muscle. Gutting it was out of the question.
"YYYOOOOLLLL!!!" The dragon roared and sprayed its breath across the watchtower. I was at its feet now. My feet stamped down on one of its front paws as I jumped up at my target. Both my hands squeezed the boneknife's handle and I stabbed it into the big vein with a yell and a prayer.



The curved edge bit into a thick plate, then scraped off to the side. I lost my grip on it and the weapon, along with a piece of scale, sailed off into the grass.


"Mal Sahlo Mun. Werid Nosi. Vikkil." The dragon said to me. It was bleeding from where I'd struck it, but it was a superficial wound at best, not the fatal blow I'd intended. The creature shuffled closer while swinging its head in random arcs, like a swordsman trying to lure his opponent into a false opening. I was no swordsman, especially now that I didn't have a weapon. My eyes followed the arc the knife had taken but in the darkness it was impossible to see. Still, I knew where it was. If only I could get there.


The dragon kept approaching, feinting a pair of lunges as I pressed myself against the wall of the watchtower. I felt cracks and craters behind me and wished they'd been bigger so I could hide within them. It was a stupid idea. Still, I tried. Them spoke to me, wanted to take over. For what? So I could die without panicking? No, Them said. To kill it.
"About time."


Take one step forward to obtain room to move. Ignore the feints, wait for the hesitation that marks the real attack. Dive left, grab the knife. Dragonhead follows, expecting an escape. Turn, cut, follow the line of bone into its eye.


It roars and recoils, drawing its head away from the attack. The earlier wound near its throat swings within striking distance. I attack, drive the weapon into the open spot, there where a scale is broken. Hand slips off, duck to avoid its wing. I draw back, making sure to stay within its blind spot. The knife is stuck in the muscle now, deeper than before but not deep enough.


The dragon backsteps and beats its wings. Can't let it take flight, can't attack or hide if it is in the air. I try to find an opening, find none.
"ROH-DAAAH!"


The dragon is driven flat against the ground. A man runs up, forcing his way through the thick growth.
"Dov!" He says, "Rotmulaagi Zol Mul." It is the Breton mercenary. I run in to use the opening. Aim for the knife, leap and kick the handle, drive it in as far as it can go. Then I take distance. Now wait.


The dragon roars and spits fire across the plains. Again the Breton shouts, drives the flames away on the wind. He runs at the wounded beast and throws a fist at its snout.
He yells, "Haal Krii Slen!" And punches with his other hand.


"Haal Krii Slen!" Punch.


"Haal Krii Slen!" Blood leaps from the point of impact.


"HAAL! KRII! SLEN!"


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I didn't know how long I'd watched Fist attack the dragon or how many times he'd struck it. I was in a daze. Not just from exhaustion and fear, but also from what happened at the end. A Being of myth, whose breath reduced men to ashes, that pulverized fortifications by striking them with its skull. That could have a large knive sink completely into a vital artery and still not die. As close to unstoppable and invincible as it could get and what had finally been the end of it? A halfnaked mute who literally beat it to death with his bare hands!


I was wary about moving in for a closer look, afraid that it could get back up again at any moment. No, it was definitely dead now. It's skull had been broken where the man had struck it. Now it was nothing more but a shapeless mess of flesh, bonefragments and loose scales. Fist stood next to it like a hunter surveying his trophy, his arms folded across its chest. The arms that had slain a beast armies couldn't.


"Just what are you?" I thought out loud. Then the detachment of Whiterun arrived and there was no chance for me to unravel that mystery.


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OOC: Ok, I think I might have weakened the dragon a bit too much for this part. I mean, it was doing fine up till the point Spar starts to play it like a fiddle. Then the shirtless guy walks in and welp. That's all folks.


The dragon language that featured prominently in this update was gathered by browsing through the UESP's dictionary. This means that I hold no promise towards its accuracy, even moreso since I butchered the grammar to hell and back. Fist's Shout at the end doesn't actually exist in the game. I took that from the elderscrolls.wikia by going through the list of in-game Shouts and glueing together what sounded right.




By the way, does anyone want me to make a post with my terrible translation work so you have the Dragon's and Fist's words in plain english?