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]

30th Frostfall, 4E 194, 10 of the Morning Watch
Klargus

A cool morning mist wafted over the western edge of the Whiterun tundra. Birdsong flowed on the same wind, tranquil and serene. Klargus gazed upon the grand vistas before him, the wide rapids of the Karth, the gnarled ancient pines, and the snow capped mountains. Mountains everywhere you look, I swear.

He took his map from his pack, along with an apple that fell out when he unrolled it. Haha! Only three more miles to Dragon Bridge! He rolled the map pack up, gave the apple a quick sleeve polish, and munched as he walked. To his puzzlement, he heard ravens croaking and saw smoke rising from the bottom of a small valley.

When he went to investigate, he nearly choked on his apple. There at the bottom of the valley was the last remains of a battle. He was nauseated as he saw the smoldering wreckage and mangled corpses. Between the smoke and fire, he saw two blue figures, locked in combat.

He cautiously made his way down, avoiding the bodies and flames. Sadly, he could not escape the stench. As he got closer, he could hear the two ghosts (for that is what they were) shouting at each other.

"You skeever-suckling swine! The deployment of Flame Wall spells is specifically prohibited in the Code of War, Section 7 "On the Use of Magick and Spells", Subsection 2 "Flame and Fyre", Part 11 "Wall and Barrier Spells", by Gaiden Shinji, First Era 950!"

"Pah! There are no rules in war, only a man's honor...And a man who charges archers with lances has NO HONOR!"

"How Laconic, my slow-witted, traitorous, criminal-harboring adversary!"

"Nice fancy words, mah highborn, peacock-keeping, peasant-trampling lordship!"

Klargus let out a whimper of fear, causing the two things that had been men to turn to him.

"Who are you? I don't take any ragamuffins in my cohort."

"And I don't take children, Cap'n Womb-Raider."

"I'm...I'm Klargus Skjori. But who are...were you?"

The Legionnaire ghost spoke. "Praefect Praxedes Destrier, Fifth Cohort. And, I think you'll find the most," he bowed, "courteous of company."

The Stormcloak ghost belched. How did that work with ghosts? "Bone-Breaker Hrolnov, Claw of The Great Bear. This pretty boy is a scumbag."

"Riiiight. So, what's keeping you here?" Klargus' mother had told him to ask a ghost this if he ever met one, to perhaps dispel its spirit.

"Keepin' us here? There's a battle on, lad!"

"You do realize you're...dead?"

The Imperial looked down at the blue-tinted black and gold of his armor. "Hmm. So we are. That doesn't make this ignorant Nord any less guilty of war crimes."

Klargus held up his hand before the Nord could launch into another string of insults and expletives. "Alright, right now, we're going to see you both through to the afterlife, whichever one that be. Does anyone know anything about this?

The Imperial stepped forward, and haughtily straightened his ethereal plumes. "Iiiiii happen to know all about exorcisms. Now, Nordy Boy, have you any pacts with Hircine, Peryite or Nocturnal?"

"Does it count if ah slept with a werewolf once? I didn't know before hand, if that matters."

"No, my lewd friend, it does not. Well, now we have to figure out what's keeping us here."

There was a pause. "Well, ah imagine it's us, innit?"

"Indeed, I hast reached the same conclusion."

"Although," said the Stormcloak, letting go of his opponent and looking at the carnage of the battle, " I'm not sure I'm ready to move on."

"Nor I," said the Imperial, removing his helmet. "Nor I indeed. I think I speak for the both of us, my young friend, when I say that we can manage on our own. It may take some time, but we'll get there."

"Aye. You're a good lad. Come and visit sometime, if we're still around."

" 'Come and visit.' I like the idea of staying here for a while. It's quite beautiful here. Perhaps my men and yours are relaxing under some tree or off celebrating in a field."

The Nord smiled at his former enemy, as Klargus walked away. "We ain't so different, you an' I."

This post has been edited by Rohirrim: Dec 1 2013, 05:26 AM