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Posted by: Tellie Nov 16 2011, 03:18 PM

The Tale of Aurora Delvanni.

Foreword:

'So you've come to write down my story have you? I thank you. I was born Aurora Regine Septim. The only daughter of Saryn Constantin Uriel Septim, the only son of Martin Septim and Salina Delvanni. What was that? Oh I can assure you the Septim bloodline is not as dead as people would have you believe and my favily has always been a long lived one.'

'As I was saying I was born Aurora Regine Septim, but like my father I chose not to use the name Septim. The Septim line was almost destroyed completely and that is why my grandmother kept the birth of her and Martin's son a secret, and my father had no desire to lay claim to the throne either, so without further ado let us begin.'

Chapter One. A New Home:

It was a few days after my twelfth birthday that tragedy struck my family. My family had been living in relative peace in Bruma ever since the Oblivion crisis, but peace was not to last. I had grow up with the war against the Aldmeri Dominion and could vividly remember the fires as Cloud Ruler Temple was burnt to the ground with the Blades along with it in the 175th year of the Fourth Era. That was the first day I had seen my father truly angry.

Grandmaster Jokad the great grandson of the legendary Blade Baurus was the only Blade who knew my true identity and had been a lifelong friend of my father so when the attack came my father could not be stopped. Two hundred years old and he grabbed his sword and started running towards Cloud Ruler with more agility then I had seen in much younger men, and naturally I panicked.

With my mother dead the year before I had no one left, so I ran after him. A few hundred yards away he stopped and turned towards me. "Aurora go back, this is not something you should see".

His words hit me like a slap in the face. "Please don't go father, I have no one left but you", I could already feel tears mar my face as I saw the determination in his old eyes.

"AURORA, please don't do this, I have to try and stop this...but I cannot allow you to throw away your life, go back", the steel in his voice brooked no argument so I simply nodded at him, knowing that if I spoke I would break down in pleading sobs.

Once he had passed the burning gates I followed trying to keep myself to the shadows as much as possible. Sneaking closer I heard the sound of steel clashing with steel and my father's mighty shouts rang out across the courtyard.

Climbing up the steps I hid behind a pillar as the last Blades who had not been hunted down, betrayed by their Emperor fought against the much larger force of Thalmor soldiers, With my father joining the small battle it appeared that hope was not yet lost as none could stand before him when he swung his mighty ebony claymore and his spells claimed the life of dozens as he waded through the battlefield.

To my horror though someone slipped past his guard and knocked him to the ground. With his weapon lost and two Thalmorians pinning him down I could only watch with silent horror as a giant of an elf raised his sword for a killing blow, yet before he could strike Jokad threw himself at the elf shouting "RUN MY LORD, WE'LL COVER YOU".

Before my father had a chance to act however a blast of magic disarmed the remaining Blades and then the fight was over, each of them held with a sword to their throats and the big Thalmor soldier removed his helmet.

"My Lord? I was under the impression that you served Titus Meade The Emperor, not some half breed from Bruma".

Jokad bowed his head in shame now that the secret was out, my father was more than he seemed. "You'll get nothing out of me filth", he growled before launching a most impressive clot of spit and mucus into the enemy's face.

The Thalmor leader, his face reddening drew out his blade once more, "Then if you do not tell me I'll just kill him now and be done with it".

This time I was prepared. I already had the words for a fireball spell in my head when I was suddenly clubbed over the back of the head. Seeing stars I crashed into the snow as I tried to clear my vision, and I was vaguely aware of screaming as someone grabbed me by my hair and dragged me over to the others.

"Aurora you silly girl", my father moaned as I was dropped before him. "Please I'll do anything you ask, just don't hurt her", he begged of the Thalmor who laughed cruelly.

"Then tell me what the honourable Blade here was talking about, who are you"?

My father sighed knowing that he was damned either way. "If I tell you will you swear to let her live"?

The Thalmor sighed as if my father had laid on him a heavy burden. "Yes yes I swear I shall not lay a hand upon her".

Apparently satisfied my father took a deep breath. "I am Saryn Constantin Uriel Septim, the son of Martin Septim and true heir to the throne of the Empire".

For a whole minute not a sound was uttered before the Thalmor shrieked a fearsome cry and beheaded my father with a deft stroke of his blade. I screamed in fear and denial as my father's head rolled on the ground and then rage overtook me. Screaming with pain and rage I threw myself at the Thalmor only to be thrown to the ground with mocking laughter ringing in my ears.

"My my you are a feisty one, I believe your death shall be a slow and painful one", he smiled wickedly as he approached me with his blade ready. Panicking I reached out for anything that could help me and from inside me something stirred like a beast of old and with a booming voice like I had never heard my mouth uttered the word [b]'FUS'[/b].

The effect was instant, the Thalmor soldiers were thrown away like ragdolls and the surviving Blades reacted immediately, grabbing discarded weapons they threw themselves at the Thalmor while Jokad grabbed me by my arm and ran,

Once we had reached the Bruma stables he stopped. "Aurora you must leave now".

Shaking my head I tried to speak only to cough up blood, that shout must have done as much if not more harm to me than my enemies.

"Listen the Blades are all but gone and Cyrodiil is no longer safe. Grab a horse and ride. Ride far away where they won�t find you. I rode as hard as I could while the remaining Blades threw themselves at the Thalmor in a futile attempt at delaying them. They bought me time enough at least to stop by the home of myself and my now deceased father where I hurriedly grabbed whatever valuables we had: a good two hundred septims, a trusty steel dagger and a magnificent red jewelled amulet in the shape of a diamond, banded by gold and eight smaller gems that my father had told me I would one day inherit (but must keep hidden at all costs). Pocketing the coins, sheathing the knife in my boot and slipping the amulet over my head I donned a travel worn blue hooded robe and pointed my horse in the general direction of far away.

I lost track of time quickly enough. While heartbroken at the murder of my father and jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs (thank you Thalmor and any agents you may or may not have after me), I was also excited. I was a very precocious and grown up (or so I told myself) twelve-year-old with nothing but the future (and endless muddy roads, curses!) ahead of me and surely this was the start of my very own adventure that would surely rival those of my grandmother or even grand aunt (who was living it up in Morrowind and no doubt amusing herself�and any of her compatriots by blasting Argonians back and forth after their rather�misguided attempts at invading a realm protected by three living gods who had sent Mehrunes Dagon screaming headfirst back to Oblivion).

Of course, a twelve-year-old's imagination is rather different from the harsh realities of the world. It was cold, it was wet, it was damned uncomfortable roughing it in the woods due to no innkeepers willing to either: house a twelve-year-old without parents for free or accepting said twelve-year-old�s coin (when I had them). Oh yes, a good two hundred coins did me well�for about two weeks, then I had to get creative. First and foremost, without coin there wasn�t a single innkeeper (a pox on all of them) who would even entertain the notion of housing me (regardless of my doe eyes and hopeful beaming smile).

Furthermore, without coin I lacked the crucial ingredient for a good life�or even life in general. Food is sadly a necessary ingredient to keep our bodily functions working, and food doesn�t exactly grow on trees�well I suppose some of it grow on trees, but I�ve found out that unannounced (and unpermitted) trips into someone�s fruit garden or vegetable patch is a very good way to give yourself a good bout of personal exercise (to avoid either the cane or the guards�I�m still undecided to which one is worse). Regardless, over the years that I spent wandering Tamriel on foot, (my trusty mount Brunhilde having found her way into my pot that very first year) I discovered that I had a peculiar set of natural talents (from my father�s stories an inherited family trait).

Magic came rather naturally to me, the only problem was finding the proper spellbooks, after all mages and shopkeepers didn�t give them out in charity (a pox on them too). I was also blessed with the ability to not only find myself in constant hot waters with guards, shopkeepers�priests, most of the time due to my rather itchy fingers that took a delight in�borrowing items (food and coin for the most part), items that most of the time I did not technically have permission to �borrow�, regardless if it was for a good cause or not (and yes, keeping me alive is a good cause I can assure you). Still, the only thing I did better than getting into tight spots was wriggling my way out of them, being blessed by not only very good genes (apparently scraping and clawing one�s way out of trouble was a time honoured Delvanni family trait stretching back for generations), said genes had gotten a very good workout over the years as most of the time I was on the move (guards, or anyone else I�d robbed and/or insulted not far behind me).

Of course, living in the wilds (I dread the state my hair must have been in those years) I also learnt a lot about survival, like how to handle an axe (nothing wrong about a traveller carrying an axe, besides the fact that the massive dwemer monstrosity was sharp and big enough to bisect a troll), I also discovered that whenever you get stuck in situations like: guards who refuse to listen to reason (excuses or outright lies really) or stubborn wildlife (that most of the time want to add you to their palate) a good fireball is always the best answer (and in some cases also gets you free dinner).

Still, as I was saying I travelled Tamriel back and forth never staying more than a day or two at the most in any given city, as such I was�rather out of touch with local news (or even what year it was). I knew of course that the Great War had ended (a few months after I left as a matter of fact) with the signing of the White Gold Concordat. The Argonians had not only been beaten soundly by my quite frankly terrifying great aunt (at least that�s how father described her) but evolved into a state of perpetual war as the Dunmer of Morrowind took a trip down every once in a while to pick up new helpers (slaves) and the Argonians sent another wave back into Morrowind (aided by whatever mercenary or sellsword stupid enough to join every few years only to be beaten back soundly). And unrest was stirring in Skyrim.

Normally such news would have me steer clear of the land with a wide margin (the state of war being the biggest reason I did not seek out my great aunt after all). But unfortunately in the nearly two decades I�d roamed Tamriel I�d managed to infuriate quite a few local magistrates (and other persons of less repute), almost to the fact that if someone caught me and managed to provide proof that I was the one behind the numerous crimes and insults paid (isn�t it wonderful to never stay long enough for someone to learn your name?) He/She would earn enough money from the unclaimed bounties to probably buy themselves a minor Duchy somewhere.

So unless I was willing to enter the warzone that was the Morrowind/Black Marsh border, then Skyrim was the only option left, so it was with a heavy heart that I stole a horse from the Duke of Chorrol�s personal stable (glee actually, the poor beast was no doubt better off with someone who was not the size of a small troll like the aforementioned duke). Slipping out of Chorrol with my new (and quite thankful) steed and a suspiciously heavier pack (the local backer should learn to use locks better than what a blind beggar could pick) was simplicity itself�that of course should be clue enough that my bi-polar family luck would kick in.
No sooner had I crossed into Skyrim that a blizzard so strong I couldn�t even see my poor shaking fingers struck. I was forced to make a quick makeshift shelter compiled of sticks and some rolls of cloth, the only source of warmth I had was this delightful fur coat that I�d spotted hanging innocently by itself in the entrance hall of the Cheydinhal Chapel. My poor horse was forced to stand out in the cold and freeze even more than I, (un)fortunately Dinner (three guesses what I intended to do with the horse when I named her) would be free of the blasted weather soon enough.

The godsforsaken blizzard (a pox on Kynareth for exposing me to it) lasted for three days. What�s worse, Dinner managed to escape (from the weather or discovering my plots for her I�ll never know), so there I was. Cold, hungry and bereaved of most of my worldly possessions (most of them still latched on to Dinner's saddle), the only things I had left were the clothes on my back, the now sodden cloak I�d used as a �roof�, my amulet and of course my trusty axe (and hidden knife).

I wandered through waist high snowdrifts for perhaps a day, continuously swearing to myself that as soon as I found a town I�d settle down for good and turn over a new leaf in life. Start fresh as a lawful citizen (I was after all, a decent healer, a good forester and hunter, and had some skill in a smithy, blacksmiths often accepted help in return for a measly coin or three and you quickly pick up things when you do them for a good decade or two). Of course, my relapse into crime came perhaps the very next day or so when I spotted a man dressed in leather armor walking by his lonesome with nothing but a woodcutter�s axe in his hands and a short sword at his waist.

I know I said that I would start fresh, but I was hungry, and the man obviously had coin, and in the grand scale of things what was one last robbery? Not receiving an answer, I unsheathed my axe from its place on my back and stepped towards him. �Hello there, give us your coins and nothing bad will happen to ya�, I said with my best smile as I hefted the big axe in my hands.

The man breaking out into a laughing fit wasn�t exactly the reaction I�d planned for, the pointed cough from behind me provided me with ample explanation for why the man was laughing. Standing perhaps a few feet away (certainly within arms reach) was no less than a whole company of Imperial Legionnaires in full armour and a pair of carts laden with prisoners (dressed in light scale, mail and leather armour with blue cloth and furs). �Oh Bugger!� were my last words before a mailed fist sent me happily into the land of dreams.


So I decided to rewrite large parts of the intro (and add more parts) to make it more 'correct' in terms of time. Such as the end of the Great War (and beginning of the sotry) does not lead to Aurora going straight to Skyrim. Instead it leads to Aurora developing into a (somewhat) competent their and warrior/mage with literally nothing to her name (except a very long list of bounties matching her description). SO at the start of 'Skyrim' (main part of this story) she is thirty seven years old (rather young still as she is 'technically' a dark elf).
Also I will be trying to focus on this story mostly for now while my muse is with it, but I haven't forgotten (or stopped working on) my other stories. So please leave a review and enjoy.

Posted by: mALX Nov 17 2011, 02:33 AM

I'm intrigued by Aurora's lineage, just like you to make the backdrop of the story a stunner !! I can't help but wonder if Aurora will summon the ghost of Lucien Lachance and find him wearing a girder over his nether regions for protection, ROFL !!! Awesome Write !!!

And by the way, WELCOME BACK !! IT'S ABOUT TIME !!!!

Posted by: McBadgere Nov 17 2011, 06:11 AM

Excellent!!... ...

Loved it...Nice one... ...

Where do I know the name Delvanni from?...I'm sure I've heard it before...Can't think...Brain gone... ...

Posted by: Tellie Nov 17 2011, 05:32 PM

Delvanni is the last name of the two characters I write about. Telina being the more famous one, I'm sure that if you ask some of the more 'old' members who frequent the fanfiction portion of the site you'll get some pretty long resume� s of why you don't mess with ayone who has Delvanni as a last name.

Posted by: McBadgere Nov 17 2011, 08:49 PM

I remembered what it was...I was confusing it with Cindel Towani from the Ewoks film in the eighties... ...

Sorry about that... ...

Yours is an excellent story though...

Nice one... ...

Posted by: minque Nov 20 2011, 01:35 PM

YAYYY! Tellie, WELCOME BACK!!!! From the dark woods of my neighbor country!

And YESSSS Do NOT mess with anyone named Delvanni....make friends instead...Serene did!

So the lineage continues.....that is truly awesome! Aurora seems to be a nice girl??

Posted by: Tellie Mar 16 2016, 03:32 AM

EDIT NOTICE:

I've rewamped nearly the entire intro (and added a sizable part to it as well) so please read and tell me what you think.

Posted by: Tellie Mar 17 2016, 08:36 AM

I admit, this one got away from me slightly as I never could find a good spot to stop it so I hope you enjoy it, I doubt that all future updates will have this length however.


I woke with a groan to the shifting sensation of being on a waggling cart, only to be interrupted by a strong male voice with clear nordic accent to it. �Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there�.

Blinking my eyes I spotted the man who was speaking to me. Strong muscular physique, dressed in that leather/scale armour of most of the prisoners I�d seen shortly before my unfortunate incarceration. The young man was clearly younger than I by a decade at least (irrespective of his blonde beard), there was a�youth to his eyes. He�d seen and spilled blood before, but had not truly seen how harsh life could be yet, regardless he was handsome enough and I tried to offer a smile only to wince as my bruised jaw protested the action, one of the other prisoners, this one dressed in rags quickly interjected his own opinions though.

�Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell�. Turning his gaze to me he tried to entice me to support him, not that it would help in our current situation. �You there. You and me � we shouldn�t be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants�.

Not having a clue of who the Stormcloaks even were I just shrugged my shoulders helplessly, No sympathy had ever been given me, so I wasn�t about to offer it to someone else who had been nabbed for stealing, sympathy after all didn�t do anything on its own.

�We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief�, the blonde one said gravely.

�Shut up back there!� my face swerved right to see the cart driver, an imperial dressed in the heavy armour of the legion glare contemptuously at us before turning his gaze back to the road.

The prisoner in rags looked at the person who was seated on my right. �And what's wrong with him?� he asked

The blonde warrior almost spat in fury as his face reddened. �Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim�, he barked at the prisoner whose eyes widened in apparent panic, while I felt my own eyebrows rise involuntarily�this was both surprising�and bad. VERY bad.

�Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?� While the prisoner�s display of panic was a bit distasteful, especially since the loud noises grated on my headache I could certainly understand his concern.

�I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits�, the blonde at least was man enough to accept whatever was in store for him, and seeing that I was seated next to the leader of an apparent rebellion I saw my chance to improve my life immeasurably.

Feeling my boot with my bound hands I grinned, the knife was still there, and really�hands bound together with nothing more than a few strips of cloth and leather! Perhaps that worked in this part of the world�unless the one being bound had access to magic. Leaning over to the blonde I whispered in his ear. �If you want to make it out of this alive, we need to knock the thief here out�, I flashed him a small glimpse of my dagger and he grinned before turning to the thief to slam his forehead against the thief�s who sank into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

Ulfric mumbled something through his gag, which drew my attention back to him to observe him properly and I almost cursed myself as I felt a small flush come across my cheeks. Ulfric was dressed in a combination of scale and chain underneath a truly magnificent set of intricately carved plate decorated by various runes and bears. Around his neck was a dark cloak topped off by a fur of some animal (a bear was my best guess) and a sash of the same universal blue that the rest of his men wore was also present. His face held a rugged handsomeness with chestnut hair and beard with stormy grey eyes and strong rugged features that nonetheless carried some hint of what had to be elven blood (most likely from a grandparent), and I found myself drawn into his sharp eyes before withdrawing my gaze with a blush, and from the way his gag moved I was sure the blasted nord was smirking.

�Right�, I said, slipping the small knife over to the blonde man first (that insufferably smug Ulfric could choke on it if he wanted to). �Here�s the plan, once we stop, I�ll provide a distraction, you get as many free as you can and then we leg it�any objections�?

The blonde who had just slipped the small dagger over to Ulfric who discretely cut his own bonds yet like his friend and myself maintained the illusion of being bound started laughing. �You make plans like a true nord�, he chuckled and even Ulfric who was still gagged chuckled slightly before trying to give the dagger back to me.

I let my hands flash with a burst of magic for a brief moment, causing Ulfric to nod in understanding and turn the dagger back to the blonde one. �I have more than one trick boy�, I said with a smirk at the blonde haired warrior who fumed slightly at being called a boy. �Trust me, I�ll have the Imperials �off� their feet in seconds�, I grinned smugly at the two confused looks. Over the decades I�d tried and tried to replicate that fierce shout that had saved my life the day my father was murdered and the more I contemplated the word the better I became at �producing it�, almost as if the word was more than just a word, like it was in some ways a part of me�suffice to say, it was perfect for creating distractions and advantages.

We came close to a small town, surrounded by imperial walls (though I must say imperial architecture in Skyrim is far more �rugged� than the fine elegant constructions in other provinces, but I�d no doubt that they did their job well. A soldier called out from atop the gatehouse.

�General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!�, hmph, not even a trial, apparently this Ulfric�s rebellion must be more successful than the imperials wanted to admit if they were willing to just shuffle us off to be given a permanent haircut in this fashion, though with my, thankfully unproven record, I�d either be spending a few centuries in prison to atone for the number charges against someone matching my description�so unless we made our escape I would probably prefer to have my head lobbed off and be well rid of the world. Not that I intended to.

�Good. Let's get this over with�, the apparent General Tullius said from his position at the head of the column, wearing a fine red cape and the armour of an imperial general.

Passing through the gatehouse we spotted Tullius atop his charger, speaking with the leader of a trio of people whose presence made my blood boil. There in all their pomp was a Thalmor envoy of some repute (judging by the state of her finery) and a pair of guards in gilded elven armor, and I felt myself growl dangerously in the back of my throat, drawing at first surprised, then agreeing looks from both Ulfric and blondie whose name I had yet to learn.

�Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this�, blondie said, causing me to give a growl of outrage.

�I beg your pardon boy!� I snarled. �Don�t paint all elves under the same brush, I had to watch the Thalmor cut my father�s head off and then spend the next twenty years, avoiding their agents�.

The target of my ire at least had the sense to look ashamed. �I�apologize�, he said finally before looking around. �This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny...when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe�, he sighed and I briefly felt a smidge of sympathy for him, it was much the same for me in my childhood.

�Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?� the voice of a young boy asked curiously.

His father grimaced however, fully aware of what was going on. �You need to go inside, little cub�.

�Why? I want to watch the soldiers�, the boy griped as he stomped his foot.

�Inside the house. Now!� the boy�s father said in a sharp tone that brooked no argument and caused the boy to shuffle back inside, shortly afterwards the wagon stopped, and I gulped slightly as I spotted the imperials scattered about, as well as a priestess of Arkay and a masked headsman with a large axe in his hands.

Under the Imperials' watchful eye, the prisoners started jumping out of the wagons while my mind worked furiously. Most of the force that must have captured the rebels (and myself) must have moved on as we were actually outnumbering the imperials by perhaps half a dozen or so, my musings were cut short as the horse thief woke up and immediately panicked.

�You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!� he yelled furiously while everyone (myself included) ignored him.

A woman whose colouring shoved that she had at least one redguard parent, dressed in the armour of an officer of the legion barked out commands with a sharp voice. �Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!�

�Empire loves their damn lists�, blondie snorted.

Another soldier, this one a chestnut haired nord with the typical strong nord physique and dressed in imperial light armor stepped up next to the captain, a list in his hands. �Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm�, he said gravely, and Ulfric walked over to where the headsman stood with determined grace, not at all phased at his (apparent) imminent demise.

�It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!�, blondie said as Ulfric walked off.

�Ralof of Riverwood�, so Ralof was the name of the blonde who walked off to join Ulfric.

�Lokir of Rorikstead�, the horse thief was hyperventilating as his name was called.

�No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!� he cried as tears fell from his eyes and then he ran full pelt towards the gate.

�Halt!� the captain shouted after him causing him to laugh hysterically as he yelled �You�re not going to kill me�.

The Captain, and almost everyone else turned towards the fleeing thief and I saw this as my chance. I inhaled and shouted �FUS�, at the top of my lungs. The Captain, the nord with the list, and five soldiers who had their bows drawn and pointed towards the fleeing horse thief were blasted to the ground in shock. Spinning on my feet I unleashed a concentrated bolt of fire from both my hands, causing the two legionnaires next to General Tullius to fall screaming to the ground while I ran full tilt towards the general.

The situation was so bizarre that even an experienced soldier like Tullius was unable to react at the speed and viciousness of my attack. The situation worsened as Ralof seized the closest solder and slit his throat with my dagger and took the imperial�s sword and started to free his fellow rebels while Ulfric himself removed his gag and to my shock imitated my actions by drawing his breath and unleashing a shout that rung through the air like a crack of thunder. I recognised �FUS� as the one I myself knew, the following words �RO DAH� were new however and proved to be even more powerful than my own as the headsman and another four soldiers were blasted back in a wave of pure force and from the sickening cracks I knew they probably broke every bone in their body when their backs hit the closest tower.

Without breaking stride I sent forth another pair of fireballs towards the Thalmor who were advancing towards me with their blades drawn. One of them fell back with a horrible scream as his hair, clothes and even flesh itself caught fire from the magical flames, while the other one was blocked as the female Thalmor leader raised a ward. By that time the Imperials started to react but it was too late, my own actions and those of Ulfric had already laid low fifteen of our captors eight of them permanently, so we had the advantage of numbers now and the rebels, some of them still bound fell upon the imperials with the desperate fury of a man who knows he will die if he doesn�t.

I for my part ducked under the wild swing of the Thalmor bodyguard and sprang forth, pushing with all the strength in my feet I caught him at his waist and threw him to the ground. Panicking he tried to swing his sword but I caught his arm in a vice grip while slapping his face as hard as I could while speaking the cantrip of a lightning spell that was based on touch. He made a strangled cry as his body spasmed in its death throes. Feeling the hairs on my neck raise I rolled to the left which was quite fortunate as the last Thalmor, the woman in charge stabbed her sword down at my former position, burying her fine ebony blade into the chest of her dead bodyguard, before she could pull her sword free I grabbed a loose rock and smashed it down with all the strength I possessed (considerable actually as I am larger than most of my kind), and the Thalmor witch fell to the ground with a cry of pain as blood and teeth alike flew from her mouth and broken nose.

Before I could finish her off however a tremendous thundering sound came forth and blasted me off my feet while the sky itself turned an ominous orange hue. Shaking the cobwebs from my head I looked at the top of the tower only to let loose a shriek of shock and fear.

On top of the tower perched a massive black beast like something out of my darkest nightmares. Blackened scales protected a strong body bulging with powerful muscles. Jagged spikes protruded the massive shape and the head particularly had an impressive crest of long curling spikes. The large maw held rows of teeth as long as a sword, and the curling talons on the beast�s wings were as long as a man. The enormous wings themselves, folded elegantly were large enough to shadow a city from the sun if the beast ever was to take flight, but worst of all were the eyes. Flaming red and baleful with a disturbing intelligence stared straight at me with what was unmistakably hatred and I barely even noticed as a strong pair of hands grabbed me and started to pull me away as I stared transfixed at the beautiful and terrifying being.

�RUN!� the voice of Ulfric yelling directly into my ear as well as the accompanying slap across my face was more than enough to get me moving and I ran as best I was able to along with Ulfric and Ralof.

Helgen was already littered in bodies (some burning others not), and more would probably join them as imperials, stormcloaks and civilians alike ran here and there in a disorganised mob while huge balls of flame fell from the sky to shatter houses or engulf men. As we cleared the gates the dragon (for what else could it be) flew off again with a chilling roar and even at the distance away he was I could feel the wind pick up from the beats of its massive wings. We continued to run for I don�t know how long as our hearts beat a dance tune in our chests, none cared about allegiances at the moment, as the nord who had called up names from the list was running right beside us along with one of his comrades, right now we were all brothers in arms doing what we could to survive, or so I thought. The imperial who was the companion of the nord legionnaire suddenly drew a crossbow and aimed it straight at Ulfrics back and pulled the trigger.

I don�t know what made me react, perhaps it was for what the Jarl (and mostly successful rebellion leader) could do for me, or perhaps it was that blasted Delvanni lineage for once kicking me to do the right thing in my life. Regardless of what it was I shouted �GET DOWN!�, as I forcibly pushed Ulfric out of the way only to let out a strangled gasp of pain as I felt the steel quarrel punch into my chest.

�AURELIUS!�, the other legionnaire protested at his companion�s unexpected move.

Whatever Aurelius had to say for his defence he took with him to the grave as Ulfric swung an axe he had picked up in the fighting and removed Aurelius� head at the neck. �Give it up Hadvar�, Ralof said to the last legionnaire (the one with the list that is).

Hadvar looked unsure as he turned his head back and forth between Ralof and Ulfric, at least until Ulfric lowered his axe. �I have no desire to spill more nord blood today Hadvar�, fortunately that seemed to be good enough for Hadvar who sheathed his sword.

My hoarse coughs of pain quickly got their attentions again as all three kneeled next to me, and from what I could see things didn�t look too good for me. �We must remove the quarrel�, Ulfric said with his calm voice while offering the hilt of his axe for me to bite down on. �We will have to remove your shirt�, he added while looking at me.

At first I was confused, before I realized why he was hesitant, after all removing the shirt of a woman you don�t know could be considered�inappropriate for any man, lest he have her approval, and I gave him a quick nod before biting down hard on the axe handle, while Ralof quickly opened my shirt with the help of my knife. As soon as he had cut open my shirt both he and Hadvar held me down while Ulfric carefully removed the quarrel from my chest while I screamed and twisted at the pain, my vision blackened and sound itself grew faint as pain overwhelmed me and then�it was over.

A flask of red liquid was offered by Hadvar and I greedily drank it down, wincing as the very uncomfortable feeling of flesh knitting together coursed about in my chest while Ralof poured water from his waterskin over my chest to wash away some of the blood. �SHOR�S TEETH!� Ralof yelled suddenly, an exclamation that was shared by the other two who stared down at my chest in disbelief.

�What?� I asked weakly while trying to cover my chest from their gaze.

Ulfric chuckled slightly as he offered me his fur cloak. My ire quickly abated as he wrapped me securely in the warm furs (my exhaustion played a large part here I think) before he used his finger to draw my amulet out to rest on top of my chest.

�Do you even know what this is�? he asked.

I shrugged slightly, I knew it was a family heirloom, whether it was from my Delvanni side or my Septim grandfather I didn�t know, but I had a sinking feeling that I was about to find out.

�This�, Ulfric said as he held the amulet in a slightly shaking hand. �Is the Amulet of Kings�.

My thoughts at that revelation were quite succinct. �Oh Bugger!�


As you can see, the AU continues. I never quite could accept that having your hands bound by either rope or leather would make you incapable of using magic for example. Also if you can smuggle a lockpick into prison where you'll no doubt be searched quite more thoroughly, than you'd be after getting caught by a small band of soldiers already on the move and busy with other prisoners I don't think it would be too difficult for a relatively skilled thief to hide away a dagger so that brought about the changes...still I had to let Aldie show up, wouldn't be 'typical Delvanni luck' for him not to.

leave a comment of your thoughts and I'll see you with the next update

Posted by: Kazaera Mar 17 2016, 07:28 PM

*sits down in thread with a cup of tea, cozying down to await updates*

I'm really enjoying this a lot! I was a little iffy on Aurora's parentage at first but you very much sold me on it early on - and if the first update hadn't done it, "that's the Amulet of Kings" - "Oh bugger!" would have won me over on its own. I'm curious as to where this will go now, since it looks like this and your other AU elements will be significantly altering the Skyrim plot!

Oh yeah, speaking of - I adore your twist on the game's start. As you point out it's completely plausible, really shows off the resourcefulness of the characters involved, and let's face it - it beats having the exact same headsman scene as everyone's played a dozen times! I'm generally a fan of doing away with oddities imposed by the game such as "nobody cares if you rob this tutorial room blind" (for Morrowind) or "character sits there like a lump instead of trying to get free" (for Skyrim) when they don't make sense for fic, and this was a great example of how you can make your story more interesting that way for me.

Finally, Aurora with her resourcefulness, unapologetic nature, itchy fingers and - oh yes - snarky humour is definitely a character after my own heart. I look forward to seeing more of her!

Posted by: Acadian Mar 17 2016, 07:37 PM

Very nice job of combining Aurora�s sad history with the demise of her family and Cloud Ruler Temple in Bruma. This nicely sets the stage for how the young lady developed as she did, with some of her skills fueled by her lineage, some by hatred and some by the need to survive.

And an equally enjoyable read as you turn the familiar Skyrim opening scenes into Aurora�s own. Great idea to have her know a basic shout, doubtless due to her SeptimDragonBlood. And a fun twist to have her instrumental in her own release instead of being rescued by Alduin.

Posted by: mALX Mar 18 2016, 12:12 AM

Argh! Between you and Darkness Eternal, I have to get my ability to read back OR ELSE !!!!!!!! Can't wait to see the changes you made, I know how much I loved the first version of the prologue!

Posted by: Tellie Mar 20 2016, 08:38 AM

Apparently I must have passed out after the revelation of exactly �which� amulet I had inherited from my father, since I woke up underneath a heavy fur cloak with Ralof, Ulfric and Hadvar all arguing back and forth underneath a shabby bivouac as rain poured down all around us.

Ulfric was all for using me to boost the morale of his men (me being of Septim blood tended to rather severely invalidate Titus Mede�s own claim to the Ruby Throne). Hadvar was the opposite of course. Having someone of Septim blood endorse General TUllius would surely inspire the rest of Skyrim to denounce the rebellion and the Stormcloaks. Ralof was the only one who had a halfway decent plan. Due to what had happened at Helgen these hills would sooner rather than later be swarming with soldiers. Unfortunately for the Stormcloaks my rather direct (and near fatal) assault upon the Thalmor Emissary Elenwen would worsen the situation, and most likely would force Mede to send Tullies reinforcements�not to mention the increase of Justicars that would be dispatched from the Dominion. So Ralof�s rather sage advice was to split up and leg it as best one could, a plan I heartily agreed with.

�Someone will have to go to Riverwood and Whiterun to inform them of what has happened�, Hadvar said for what had to be the umpteenth time since I woke up, sparking yet another argument.

�LISTEN!� I yelled, causing the three Nords to pause. �Ralof can go to Riverwood, lay low for a little time�, I held up my hand to silence Hadvar who looked about to be protesting. �Ulfric, will have to manage to sneak all the way back to Windhelm�good luck by the way�, I said as I pointed to Ulfric who smirked slightly. �Hadvar and I will go to Whiterun�provided he agrees to�omit certain details�.

Hadvar�s brow furrowed, �What do you mean?� he asked.

�Umm�if anyone finds out just what I�m wearing around my neck I can guarantee that BOTH the Empire and the Dominion will pour into Skyrim with their armies, I rather keep my head�.

Hadvar just blinked as confusion was spread across his face (bless them if Nords aren�t simple minded beings for the most part. Great drinking partners�terrible card players). I sighed, �how best to explain this�, I thought. �This bloody amulet belonged to my grandfather�you know, Martin Septim! I represent the biggest threat to the continued rule of the Mede Dynasty this side of the Aldmeri Dominion�and to the blasted Thalmor I�m the last living descendant of Ysmir, the man who humbled the Dominion like it had never been humbled before�understand�?

The sudden widening of his eyes and gaping mouth told me that the situation had finally dawned upon Hadvar, who suddenly got very serious. �You are a former inhabitant of Helgen, forced to flee as the dragon burnt it, that�s all anyone will hear from me�.

I smiled, even Ralof and Ulfric smiled. �What will you do?� Ulfric asked.

I raked my hands through my hair as I forced my mind to work. �I�ll spend some time in Whiterun trying to find some work that�ll give me coin enough to get up to Winterhold�.

�Winterhold�, Ralof burst out, �What could you possibly want with�Oh!�.

Due to the constant state of war between Morrowind and Black Marsh, more and more refugees from the southern parts of Morrowind were vacating it, not to mention that for centuries it had been almost a rite of passage for young Dunmer mages to spend a few decades at the College of Winterhold. The end result was that WInterhold was probably one of the largest and most populated cities in Skyrim, the great College attracting people from all across Tamriel, but especially Dunmer.

Compared to the neighbouring Windhelm where most Dunmer stopped at (and left quickly after due to the opinions of the local Nords there), Winterhold was a small piece of Dunmer/Nord paradise. The large amounts of Dunmer (and other visitors for that matter) ensured a thriving economy. The normally magic superstitious Nords had over the last centuries become far more acceptable of magic after the College decided to start offering free healing and generally cheap potions. All in all, I should be more than able to acquire sanctuary there for some time without anyone being any the wiser�of course, when does things ever go to plan.

Ralof followed Hadvar and I to Riverwood where Hadvar and I made a quick stop to inform his uncle Alvor (the local blacksmith) about what had happened at Helgen, the offer of food, and a cot to sleep on was most welcome. While I had followed Hadvar into the tavern at first, I left rather quickly as he and Ralof both decided to enter into what they called a �discussion�, how those two had managed to be best friends all their lives until now and not kill one another years ago is one of those mysteries that will never be solved I fear, so I instead decided to get started with making myself some coin by poking my nose about to sniff out any secrets or things that needed doing.

I found several things actually. First of all this rather sleazy bard attempted to have me deliver a letter penned in the hand of a Bosmer who appeared to be said bards rival for the affections of the local pawnbroker wench. Now I normally don�t try to involve myself in matters of the heart, but this Bard (with his ludicrous wavy blonde hair) just rubbed me the wrong way, and upon finding out that the Bosmer in question was a very talented hunter and archer it was a rather easy decision to turn the tables on the bard and present a new letter, this time in the hand of this �Sven��Camilla Valerius�s features were rather lovely actually as they twisted and burnt red and she stormed out of small shop she ran with her brother to�accost Sven in the street.

While I never did check up on him, I�m sure he regained the use of his legs�eventually�probably�I think�

Of course, things didn�t end there. I learnt from Lucan /Camilla�s brother) that someone had stolen a golden claw from his store and disappeared into Bleack Falls Barrow (a MASSIVE ruin overlooking the local valley from its lofty perch amongst the snow-capped mountains) and he was offering a rich reward for its return. We haggled a bit back and forth, eventually we agreed on only a hundred septims for the return of the claw, instead of demanding more I had negotiated a deal that Lucan would accompany me to Alvor where he would pay for a good weapon and perhaps some armor for me.

Alvor�s supply was rather�disappointing. I got a perfectly fine longbow, perhaps some thirty arrows all in all (a rather strange combination of iron, steel and even some dodgy looking forsworn arrows). The only armour he had in my size was a set of dark leather/ringmail that at first looked to be rather well worn, but as soon as I got fitted into it I almost sighed. It was perfect, worn enough that the leather had stopped protesting any movement, but still providing protection. The most vital organs were protected by steel rings sown into the leather, while also staying silent as I wouldn�t have to worry about steel rings clanging about. Lastly I was forced to make do with a simple (but big) iron battleaxe.

Faendal (still over the moons at Sven�s punishment) was more than eager to lend his bow to my service, as was both Ralof and Hadvar actually. Hadvar was at first adamant about going to Whiterun, that is until I pointed out that as an officer of the Imperial Legions he had a responsibility to protect the citizens of the Empire, and a small group of bandits hiding out in a fortified position overlooking a town without guards, as well as two well used trade routes�Hadvar changed his tone rather quickly once those points had been raised. Ralof needed nothing else but a raised eyebrow, a Stormcloak couldn�t chicken out where a Legionnaire went boldly forward after all, especially when said Legionnaire was his former best friend.

So it was nearing nightfall as I, Faendal, Hadvar and Ralof started the walk up to Bleak Falls Barrow with the simplest of plans (I am well known for making them). Go up there, kill anyone who resists, take back the claw, simple, easy to remember and after all, it was just a slightly intimidating mountain ruin that held perhaps ten outlaws at the most�what could possibly go wrong?



Now, due to the Red Year never happening, the shockwave of Red Mountain exploding and causing the eventual Great Collapse never happened either. This of course would make Winterhold a much larger city rather than the pale shadow of what it once was, and the College itself is widely reckognised as the most prestigious magical 'Guild' of its kind in the Empire (and other Places) Morrowind included, as the Telvanni don't really share their knowledge easily, so most Dunmer mages spend anywhere between five years to a couple of decades to hone their Craft in Winterhold.

So keep Your eyes open for more changes as they'll show up one after the other eventually.

Posted by: Kazaera Mar 21 2016, 10:46 PM

Okay, I love love love the way you logically extrapolate from your AU: Winterhold being large because no Red Year means there was never any Great Collapse, Dunmer students coming to Winterhold because for non-Telvanni and probably even some actual Telvanni it's hard to study magic in Morrowind, etc. It's fantastic, and I'm eager to see what you do with e.g. Windhelm.

Also: Hadvar, Ulfric and Ralof actually *gasp* working TOGETHER. At least briefly.

Aaand it looks as if Aurora is definitely starting to make an impression on Skyrim! I like her haggling with Lucan and am curious to see what her experience in Bleak Falls Barrow will be like.

Posted by: Tellie Mar 23 2016, 12:31 PM

Go up there, kill anyone who resists, take back the claw, simple, easy to remember and after all, it was just a slightly intimidating mountain ruin that held perhaps ten outlaws at the most�what could possibly go wrong?

As it turned out, a whole lot can actually go wrong. Were I a superstitious mer I�d say we were cursed from the start (and no, I do not count Ralof and Hadvar arguing like an elderly married couple who detested each other as a curse�rather a severe annoyance). Not sooner had we started the ascent along a worn path when (to me at least) the mother of all snow storms descended upon us, taking a cruel delight at blowing hither and dither as we clawed our way up the mountain. What should have been a few hours at best along the relatively decent path took us the entirety of the night and the better part of the next day to, and once the blasted storm finally ended we were all cold, shivering and wet.

Have you ever felt what it is like to be clad in leather that has been soaked through almost a day of heavy and fast blowing sleet and water? It gets five times as heavy and even colder as the wet leather clings to you like a second skin. Faendal the poor mer had the worst of it. Not only was he the slightest of us but Ralof and Hadvar both were Nords who had an inborn resistance to cold (to a certain degree at least), and though I may appear at first glance to be a Dunmer, a second look would tell anyone with a slightly above usual intelligence that I was not a �purebred� Dunmer.

My father was half dunmer-half�something else (you know, I never figured out if my grandfather Martin was a pure Imperial or a mix too). My mother however was as pure a nord as you could get. Long flowing golden locks (some of it showing through in my own mostly snow white tresses), sharp blue eyes, and six foot four of muscle that had been hardened through a decade of fighting with the companions (why she ever left to Cyrodiil I�ll never know I suppose). While I�ll never attain my mother�s intimidating bulk, my own height of six foot one and quite decent amount of muscle is nothing to sneer at, and considering that I�m �technically� only a quarter mer, that says something about the strength of Delvanni genes that beside some more human physique I still look for the most part like a Dunmer (all down to my burning eyes and sharp features).

Poor Faendal however was as Bosmer as you could get (and not fond of cold either) and he was shaking so bad that until we could find shelter and warm up he�d be useless in a fight, still we shouldered on Ralof and Hadvar in the lead with their weapons in hand while I walked slightly behind with my bow in hand.

�Bandits ahead�, Hadvar whispered back and I quickly set my gaze upon the ruined tower that he pointed out while Ralof snuck slowly forward.
Making a quick swiping gesture in front of my eyes I spoke an incantation and was rewarded by an immediate brightening of the world around us as the gloom faded before my eyes thanks to the night gaze spell I�d cast. Good for me, and bad for the unsuspecting bandits who were no kahjiits and as such were restricted to normal sight (which at this time of night is not that great). Nocking an arrow I briefly took aim before exhaling and letting the arrow fly...and lodge itself in the space between Ralof�s fingers in the log he was traversing.

Wincing (both at the near miss�or hit, and the future shouting match I would no doubt receive) I quickly nocked another arrow, took aim, and watched fascinated as it flew wide of the tower by perhaps thirty feet and down into the valley below us. When two more attempts gave me similar results I looked over at Faendal who was watching me with disbelief. Shrugging apologetically, I let go of the bow and grabbed my axe before racing full pelt towards the bandits, studiously ignoring Hadvar as he slapped his forehead in resignation, before joining me.

Now normally I�m a cautious person (sometimes�every now and then), but I was cold, hungry and angry at my inefficient skill with the blasted bow so I gave in to my Delvanni and Nord heritage (destroy anything in your path with ruthless fury). The small tower would not only provide us with a place to rest (not to mention roof over our head) but no doubt the bandits would have a small stash of valuables (not to mention their own gear) that would suit itself best as shiny clinky coin in my pocket.

However it was not to be. There is a reason I seldom surrender fully to the fury in my blood and soul (at this point an unknown entity). When I unleash my fury bad things happen (such as learning my first part of a Thu�um, and as it appeared whenever my blood was truly up I had no need for the lengthy experimentation and meditation needed to master it as I shouted �FUS-ROH-DAH�, with a voice that clapped like a thunderstorm.

I knew immediately that I had overdone myself again (falling to your knees exhausted while spitting blood tends to do that), as the blastwave of pure force distorted the air in front of me and sent up a mist of loose snow. Curiously enough the screams of panic from the bandits disappeared remarkably swiftly (almost as if they were flying away at great speed), and were accompanied by a curious rumbling as if it was an avalanche or rock slide nearby. Turns out I was right actually, as when the snow had settled the tower and aforementioned bandits were nowhere to be seen, and as we walked over to where it once stood (myself supported by Hadvar) we saw that the tower had not disappeared, only�relocated, as it was strewn across the mountainside and valley floor (along with copious amounts of snow and uprooted trees that had stood in the way of the falling rocks and snow, the bandits themselves were nowhere to be seen).
Seeing the glares of Hadvar, Ralof and Faendal I chuckled nervously while spreading my arms an apologetic fashion��Umm�oops!�

Posted by: ghastley Mar 23 2016, 01:42 PM

You're not just changing the story, you're changing the landscape.

Hope you can remember where you put it, if you come back this way later.

Posted by: Tellie Mar 30 2016, 12:42 AM

That night was quite�uncomfortable, stuck as we were outside in the cold due to my earlier remodelling. A paltry fire was burning away merrily with me at one end, while the two Nords and one Bosmer gave me pointed glares. Still, regardless of the cold weather, chilly wind and angry glares I did manage to get a slightly restful sleep (I certainly felt better than I�d felt the day before at least) and my companions were more than eager to let the past stay just that as I employed every single one of my culinary skills to make us roast rabbit and potatoes to break our fast, and a man (regardless of race) with a full stomach is infinitely more bearable than a hungry one.

So we struck out towards Bleak Falls Barrow shortly after dawn had greeted us, leaving our packs hidden behind a few boulders, and Faendal had wisely (over my repeated protests) confiscated both my bow and my arrows, so as I was relegated to the role of heavy hitter (my iron axe that was almost as tall as me ensured that). Ralof to my left and Hadvar to my right we moved at a brisk (but careful) pace towards the ancient ruins.

As we crept ever closer to the intimidating burial tomb our caution paid off as I could spot a sentry on an outcropping to the far left, while two others stood at the top of the stairs discussing something. Nodding to Hadvar and Ralof I tightened the grip I had on my axe before putting on a burst of speed as I sprinted up the stairs, my two Nord companions hot on my heels. The distant sound of a bow releasing an arrow, accompanied by a panicked gurgle told me that Faendal had found his mark on the sentry to the left, by that time I was almost upon the two bandits who had now turned and drawn their weapons and taken a defensive position.

Gripping my axe like a quarterstaff I jumped and pushed forward, the thick handle more than capable of withstanding the blow and the two bandits fell backwards on their rumps. Seeing that I had the situation under control both Hadvar and Ralof swept past me towards the entrance that was up another flight of steps to our right while I swept the axe over my head and smashed it down upon the head of the first bandit. His leather helmet proved to be of no use as the heavy blunt piece of iron embedded itself in his skull. Jerking harshly on the handle of my weapon to free it from the skull of the bandit I also lunged out with my left foot and was rewarded by a sickening crack and accompanying gurgles as my foot connected with the other bandit�s neck and snapped it. My axe came loose in a wash of blood and grey matter, and after a moment of deliberation I swung it again, this time severing the head of the gurgling bandit I�d kicked, and thus ended his suffering.

Sounds of conflict to my right (and accompanying swears) made me turn, an act that was quite fortunate as an arrow swept through the position I�d just vacated. Faendal was coming up behind me somewhere, Hadvar was busy fending off two bandits at once while Ralof was almost wrestling with another one while the last bandit held a bow in his hands and was already readying another arrow. I spat a curse towards him as I sprinted towards him and his occupied fellows. Dodging to the left I avoided another arrow and then I was upon him.

The poor n�wah didn�t even have time to draw his blade before I swung my axe into his stomach, prompting a chocked scream of pain from his mouth as he fell to his knees. Withdrawing my axe I turned it around and with a mighty swing buried the back spike of my axe into his face and he fell to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. I yanked hard to release my axe and spun around and smashed my axe down upon the back of one of Hadvar�s unsuspecting opponents. While his iron helmet withstood the blow, the impact itself must have rung his bells as he stumbled forward, and my second strike bit deep into his unprotected neck, easily carving through flesh, sinew and breaking the bones, so when he hit the ground dead his head was barely attached by an inch or so of flesh and sinew.

The fury of my attack must have discouraged the other two or at least distracted them as Hadvar succeeded in burying his steel sword into his foe�s chest, the leather armor proving no match to sharp Imperial steel, and as I heard a sickening crack I turned my gaze to the right, only to meet the sight of Ralof�s foe falling to the ground with his neck at an unusual angle.

Now that our foes were vanquished we shared a laugh as we set about collecting anything of worth from the corpses. Weapons, spare coin and armour (though we might need to was it some) was all gathered in a pile near the entrance to the Barrow and as soon as we were satisfied that we�d gotten everything we decided to head on inside.

The entrance chamber of the barrow was massive. A high vaulted ceiling in the style of the ancient Nords: blocks of roughhewn stone as well as making use of the natural cavern it had been carved from, a very primal, yet interesting style of architecture. Another two bandits were inside by a small fire and after a short whispered conversation with Faendal both were dispatched without ceremony. The male nord was sent to Sovnegarde, courtesy of the arrow that lodged itself in his throat, while the woman took a bit longer to perish (amazingly how long someone can run around in full blaze thanks to a fireball).

The two bandits were equally as poorly equipped as their compatriots outside�actually I take that back. The woman was in a full suit of heavy iron plate, yet that proved to be useful for nothing more than smelting down to ingots as when we managed to put the fires out, the heat from the magical flames had warped the metal to the point where it could not be worn any longer. A nearby chest (that I had to smash open when my lockpicks proved to fragile) yielded us another few coins and also a few potions. At that point we should have continued, but the stew that was bubbling away happily in a cauldron over the fire was far too tempting so we decided to take a short break to enjoy the fruits of our labour (or is that butchery) before moving on, after all with the resistance we�d seen so far we didn�t have anything to worry about�not like we were about to run into giant man eating spiders or hordes of undead after all.

Posted by: Grits Mar 31 2016, 06:26 PM

I love the twist you put on the incident at Helgen. I�m looking forward to an undamaged Winterhold. Oops, there goes a tower. Perhaps in the Aurora-verse an errant Shout will be the cause of the Great Collapse! I�m enjoying this story very much!

Posted by: minque May 12 2016, 10:46 PM

Oh naturally i spotted this far too late in the Evening to be able to read it carefully...but I Will My nordic friend....I Will!

Posted by: Tellie Jun 17 2016, 05:23 AM

After a quick (but satisfying) meal I was all set for continuing forward but Ralof must have spotted my enthusiasm as he threw out an arm to stop me. �Be careful and take it slow in nord barrows friend-� he said gravely. �-the ancient nords who built them placed countless traps, not to mention draugr usually infest places like this�.

�Well that�s unfortunate�, I thought to myself. To be honest I�d had enough of traps during my formative years alone, as there are very few places a lone girl (wanted by guards and thalmor alike) could spend a night outside of old fort ruins, caves and worst of all Aylied ruins. I�d learnt the hard way (and I do have scars to prove it) that the Aylieds also like their traps, fortunately I�d become a rather deft hand at spotting and disarming or avoiding them.

�Wait-!� I said suddenly, �-what in Talos� name is a draugr?� I asked suddenly.

�The sleeping corpses of old nords, servants and soldiers alike of the old dragon priests, entombed alongside their masters�they serve them even now in death�, Hadvar said.

�Oh�� I said lamely. I had encountered the odd zombie in Cyrodiil and High Rock, but I had a sneaking suspicion that draugr were another thing entirely. �I suppose we have to be careful then�, I finished with a defiant nod. Going over the gear of the two outlaws we had killed I was pleased to find a steel dagger and a steel tanto, the latter raising my eyebrow in surprise. While the elegantly curved Akaviri weapons were common enough in Cyrodiil and to an extent Morrowind, the nords of Skyrim usually went for simple but strong straight steel, but I wasn't complaining. I preferred to use an axe, but in the relatively narrow corridors in front of us it would be far better to go with the shorter reach of daggers, as I�d have much more room to manoeuvre, satisfied we set out, myself in the lead, Ralof to my left and Hadvar to my right while Faendal took the rear, and arrow already knocked on the bowstring.

We took our time, moving carefully forward, placing what loot could be easily carried into our packs, netting us five health potions, two fireball scrolls and a good thirty coins. Another outlaw was encountered (and shuffled off the mortal coil thanks to an arrow from Faendal), as well as a trio of ravenous skeevers that discovered just how dangerous a young blonde nord can be with an axe in his hands.
We took a few wrong turns, discovering corridors that had become inaccessible due to cave ins, until we heard a faint plea for help. Cutting through a thick layer of spider webbing we found ourself in a rather large cavernous room where at the end a fellow dunmer was quite literally wrapped up in webbing, and the rather large �THUMP� made by a huge spider revealed how that had come to pass.

The large beast made a rather disturbing clicking sound as it shuffled forward on its eight legs, and made a high shrieking sound of pain when Faendal�s arrow found its mark, said shriek fortunately drowning out my own �MEEP� of shock and fear at spotting the giant beast�I really do hate spiders.
Ralof and Hadver on the other hand had no such fear apparently as they both stormed forward and started to hack away at the beast from either side, confusing it and driving it into a frenzy as the pain from the strikes overwhelmed it, until a lucky arrow from Faendal pierced the centre of its head and the spider stilled, except for the occasional twitch.

Moving over to the wrapped up dunmer I smothered a grin at his desperate pleas. �You�re one of those who stole the golden claw in Riverwood aren�t you?� I asked him as I softly caressed his face with my dagger.
�Wha? NO! I�yes YES by the Eight YES�, he babbled as I increased the pressure of my dagger at his throat, causing a fine red line of blood to appear.
�Thought so�, I stated as I drew a rope from out of my pack and tied it around his neck. �Now you are going to follow us and if you make one wrong move�well, I�m sure Ralof here wouldn�t mind removing your head�, Ralof grinned wickedly at this and accepted the rope with glee.

A quick search of the mer�s pack revealed the golden claw and we set on our way, the corridors unnaturally silnent but for our footsteps and the whimpers of the outlaw. Coming into another room that had mummified corpses in small alcoves cut out in the stone we slowed down slightly.

�These must be the draugr�, I thought to myself as we tried to sneak quietly by, at least until the blasted outlaw stepped on a pressure plate. From seemingly out of nowhere a large spiked steel girder swung out and impaled the elf and smashed his corpse against the wall, and even worse, it woke up the draugr.

Strange coughs and barks, as well as words that tugged at the edges of my mind erupted all around us as draugr started to come to life, their empty eye sockets suddenly glowing blue. Without wasting time, I went for the closest one, slamming my steel dagger into its chest cavity while drawing my tanto harshly across its throat, slicing all the way down to the bone, it stilled instantly, whatever sorcery animating it unable to keep hold after the horrendous damage. Going for the next I was not as unfortunate as the undead construct had already gotten to its feet and held in its hands was a worn iron shield and a slightly rusted blade of old Nordic design. It seemed however that, while there may be a spark of intelligence in the netherlight of its eyes, it was still little more than an animated corpse. Its movements were relatively slow and sluggish, yet they didn�t lack for strength I noted as I ducked under a one handed swing that impacted in a stone column and sent a small shower of stone splinters away.

The creature swung again and I leant to the side before going inside its guard and bent low before plunging my dagger and tanto repeatedly into its soft belly, just below the ancient armour plates it wore. The draugr screamed in pain before it fell to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

Looking around I saw no more of them, Ralof and Hadvar had teamed up quite efficiently and Faendal was gleefully gathering together arrows from the corpses, no less than four of them carrying evidence of the bosmeri hunter�s skill with a bow.
Repeating our previous actions we gathered the weapons, shields and whatever pieces of armour we could find and piled it all together before continuing through the ruin, now a lot more careful about traps. Perhaps another eight draugr were dispatched on our journey until we came to the next traps, a narrow corridor with giant axes winging back and forth at quite frankly worrying velocity.

�This could be a problem�, Ralof said, and I was forced to nod. Hadvar was the one who was wearing the most durable armour of us, and that was still composed mostly of chainmail and cured leather, while his chest was protected by an Iron breastplate gifted to him by his uncle Alvor, and as such, a single good hit would still d him in.

�Step back!� I barked, causing my three companions to step away while I drew a big breath. �FUS-RO-DAH�, I barely noticed the swinging axes breaking off their joints and blasting away from me into the next room as a searing pain flared through my head, while it felt like a horse had just kicked me in my chest. Dimly I was aware of Hadvar and Ralof lifting me up from where I had knelt on the floor, and after coughing I realised that the wet sensation in my mouth and accompanying bad taste was blood.

"Are you well?" Hadvar asked.

�I�ve been worse,� I grit out as I took a sip from a health potion in my pouch, wincing slightly as I could literally feel my insides shifting, ruptured arteries and the like knitting back together.
The large cavernous hall that we entered was already littered with the corpses of draugr. Two of them had been neatly bisected by the big axe blades, while another four were merrily burning for some reason. Shrugging we continued, up a flight of stairs and over a stone bridge that led into a large straight hall with a circular door at the end.

Inspecting the door I was forcibly reminded of another puzzle we�d faced earlier that revolved around three triangular pillars that we had to turn the right way so that the images matched up�we didn�t learn this fact until we tried opening it once and barely escaped from a trap that had pelted the opening mechanism in a shower of poisoned darts.

At slightly below head height on the door were three jagged holes, and hefting the golden claw I saw that the claws matched up to the holes on it. Inspecting it further I saw three images on the claw, and lo and behold, right above the centre part of the door were three movable plates with an image on each. Going by my gut feeling I started to revolve the plates until I was certain I had the proper combination: owl, bat and at the top a bear.

Gesturing for the others to step back again in case of a trap I inserted the claw and twisted it. The sound of stone grinding on stone rung out before with a large �CLICK� the door sank down into the floor and we could step through, hopefully the worst was now over�

Posted by: ghastley Jun 20 2016, 03:45 PM

Lets get the nits out of the way first:

Aylied should be Ayleid, and if you capitalise that, then nord should be Nord.

"... Faendal took the rear, and arrow already knocked on the bowstring." seems to have recruited an extra letter.

Liked the new version of BFB, but I do think that Fu-Ro-Dah'ing the blade trap is using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. Just send Faendal through to turn it off from the other end.

Posted by: Tellie Feb 1 2017, 09:29 PM

“This is big,” were my first words once we saw what hid behind the old door. A humongous cavern with a fair bit of old Nord architecture thrown in for good measure.

“Our ancestors knew their stuff,” Ralof replied, as stunned as I was if I was to go by the tone of his voice.

Shivering slightly I walked on to the other end of the cavern where a curious curved wall stood among other things. Ducking slightly to avoid a sudden swarm of bats I chuckled slightly as my three companions swore colourfully at their sudden appearance.

“Something wrong?” Faendal asked after he calmed down somewhat. Of the three of them he was certainly the one who was most likely to spot my slight discomfort.

“I don’t know,” I admitted slowly as I searched for the right words. “There’s… something here. As if something inside me is acting up.”

My two Nord companions shared a glance. “Not something… bad I hope?” Hadvar asked.

“Quite the opposite,” I replied. “I feel alive, but at the same time… it’s like I am missing something, familiar whispers that I cannot make out,” I growled angrily. “This is so frustrating,” I cried out angrily as the whispers got louder the closer we got to the other side of the cavern. By the time we got up the stairs to where the wall stood, along with an old stone slab, a very old bookshelf that was used to hold a few potions, and lastly yet another closed stone coffin.

Not that I noticed, I was dragging my feet slowly as I moved in a daze towards the wall that was filled with strange scratches in some sort of strange language that tickled in the back of my mind. The world around me darkened, leaving only the scratches in my vision, almost burning themselves into my mind as they seemed to flow towards me in a wind of white and blue.

The whispers only I had heard had by now reached a crescendo, as if they were sung by a choir of heavy baritones, each word almost feeling like a punch to the head. While the language was as alien to me as the stars themselves some words still made… sense. Words such as FUS, NAH, STRUM, KO, LAAT, KROSIS, IIZ and OD. On one hand I understood nothing, and at the same time I understood it all. I KNEW these words, they were as much a part of me as my own hands.

Dimly I became aware of the world around me again. Faendal, Hadvar and Ralof were all looking at me in worry and seeing as I was down on my knees panting, I knew that I had collapsed again. “That was intense,” I wheezed as I accepted Ralof’s hand, letting him pull me back to my feet.

“What happened?” Faendal asked.

“The wall,” I said as I looked on it again, only to raise an eyebrow at how it seemed to be nothing more than a piece of rock now, nothing special at all. “I… felt it in my mind.”

“Dragonborn,” Hadvar breathed. “You must be dragonborn.”

“Perhaps,” I admitted. I didn’t know much about dragonborn to be honest, but I knew enough, kinda required when you have ancestry like mine. “Considering some of my family it isn’t that great a leap of imagination.”

“Family?” Faendal questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing to worry about,” I placated him.

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted as, rather predictably the stone coffin flew off and yet another draugr rose, this one carrying a big ancient axe, the slight shine and low musical notes that only a few (like myself) could hear told of it having a powerful enchantment on it. Still, we had slaughtered a good score of these so far, how dangerous could this one be?

Quite dangerous it appeared, as no sooner had it laid eyes on us before it blasted us with its own shout of FUS-RO. Perhaps due to my own dragonblood I had some inbuilt resistance to dragon shouts, as I only grunted in pain at the blast of force, while my three companions were blown off their feet and smacked into the wall behind us with the painful cracking sound of bones snapping.

“BUGGER!” I yelled as I now realized that I was without a weapon in my hands, my brain still too scrambled to focus on a spell, and lastly the sharp axe was already descending towards my head.

Of course, I wasn’t about to go quietly into the night either. Thalmor agents, guards, mercenaries, angry farmers, furious shopkeepers and all manner of wildlife had attempted to send me to the next great adventure for decades, and if none of them had managed to get me to lay on my back and accept my fate then you could be damn sure that an ancient shrivelled up bag of rotten flesh and bones would do it either.
Leaning to the side while bending back I JUST managed to avoid the axe that passed by the tip of my nose so close that I could feel the draft of its wake. Before the draugr could reverse its axe I was upon it. First I threw my admittedly strong arms around its neck. Stomping hard on the back of its left knee sent the undead monstrosity to its knees. Ignoring its howls of fury while admiring the strength in the undead, I adjusted my grip slightly and with a sharp jerk snapped its neck.

Instantly the draugr went limp, the power that had sustained it now broken. "Mey" I spat at it, unconsciously slipping into the dragon language as I did so. Looking over at my three companions who were all moaning in pain, but much better after having consumed a potion each to heal their injuries I grinned at them. “So friends, are you ready to continue?”

“She snapped its neck like it was nothing,” Ralof whispered in awe.

“She withstood the thu’um like it was nothing,” Hadvar added.

“She scares me to the point where I want to soil my trousers,” Faendal whimpered, causing all of us to look at him nonplussed.

Ralof and Hadvar both shared a look with eachother before looking at me and the draugr at my feet whose head was turned the wrong way before looking at Faendal again. “Agreed,” they both said, looking at me warily.

I snorted with laughter as I gingerly picked up the axe that had nearly given me a permanent haircut before spotting a big… stone. On one side were more of the same scribbles as on the wall, most of them illegible to me, while the other side held a well carved, if crude map of Skyrim, several locations had been marked out with stars, and I wanted it.

Thankfully there were no more surprises waiting for us. We had apparently reached the end of the barrow with this room, so we took our time, backtracking while taking with us as much as we could drag on the four improvised sleds we made out of wood, linen and leather. It was slow and tedious work, but Alvor the blacksmith’s face when we presented him with enough weapons of steel or iron to outfit everyone in the town several times over was more than worth it.

While the majority wouldn’t be used, rather it would be melted down to proper ingots for Alvor, there was more than enough that could be used. I for my own part immediately swapped out my bow, armour and weapons in return for a full set of proper steel plate (and a battleaxe of the same). I had to wait a few days for it to be forged, time that I spent with Faendal, trying to learn as much as I could about learning to shoot a bow (shooting a crossbow is apparently another thing entirely).

It was well worth the wait though. Stepping into armour that has been forged to fit you, compared to pre fabricated pieces like Legion armour or the like is like the difference between night and day.

“One of my best works,” Alvor admitted as he checked the straps on the armour one last time before I was to set out for Whiterun. “You take care now lass, there’s no telling what waits on the roads.”

I nodded to him and stepped away for a bit so that Hadvar could say goodbye to his family in peace, adjusting my admittedly heavy pack as I did so. While quite low on coin (a measly twenty three coins left) I was well prepared. A waterskin hung on my belt. I had enough rations of dried jerky, some cheese and bread to last me for two weeks on the road. A tent and bedroll to sleep in at night, kindling to make fire, a whetstone for my axe (said axe could easily be used to procure firewood), fork, spoon, knife, plate and soup bowl for meals, and finally the stone I’d found in Bleak Falls Barrow.

Ralof who left the previous day for Windhelm (to Hadvar’s fury), Faendal and Hadvar had all questioned my sanity for lugging the big rock with me, but I wasn’t about to let it go. It was MINE, and I wanted it, even if I didn’t know why. At least I didn’t have to lug around the golden claw of that Lucan in Riverwood wanted any longer, being of pure gold made it admittedly rather heavy compared to its size.

The trek to Whiterun itself was for the most part peaceful. We had a close shave where we ran into a few legionnaires who were escorting a prisoner with them, but fortunately Hadvar was able to explain my presence and we left them in good cheer for the most part at least, I still held somewhat of a grudge against ‘His Imperial Majesty’s’ legionnaires after my near permanent haircut (the fact that I had most likely earned the treatment a dozen times over during the course of my life wasn’t something I would lose sleep over)

After near four days Whiterun finally came in sight. Situated on a large hill/cliff amongst endless fertile plains it certainly struck a majestic pose, the rich green land surrounding it certainly helped with that image, and if the majority of Whiterun hold was like what I could see I certainly understood why Whiterun was considered one of the richest provinces in Skyrim.

“What’s that?” I asked Hadvar when we came close to one of the farms nearest the city itself.

“That’s a giant,” he said as he laid eyes on what I had pointed out, and I had to agree with the statement. The large humanoid certainly lived up to its name as it towered over four people who were trying to bring it down with a combination of arrows and swords. “Companions,” he snorted as he eyed the four warriors fighting the giant.

“Companions?” I queried.

“Spiritual descendants of Ysgramor’s five-hundred,” he explained. “The most famous of all of Skyrim’s warriors, and the closest thing you get to the Fighters Guild,” he explained further.

“Ah,” I exclaimed, probably the reason why the Fighters Guild never managed to gain a foothold in Skyrim then, just like the College of Winterhold always kept the Mages Guild from establishing themselves properly.

And then, the giant managed to break out of the encirclement of warriors and naturally chose to run right in my direction.

“SHOR’S TEETH!” Hadvar swore as he dropped his pack and fumbled for his bow while the giant gained ground remarkably quickly.

I myself didn’t react nearly so panicky. Rather than fear I was excited, FINALLY a worthy foe. My blood was almost singing in anticipation, and it was more of a challenge to not rush towards it than to run away, no doubt due to the combination of my dragonblood, Nord heritage (and my mother’s bedtime stories of slaying giants and dragons in Skyrim) and lastly of course that Delvanni part of me that reared its ugly head at each and every challenge and demanded that I overcome it as bloodily as possible.
Unslinging my axe I held the heavy piece of deadly wood and steel lightly in my hand as I calculated the best avenue of attack, finally, when it was almost close enough to smash Hadvar and I in one sweep of its massive club I reacted.

The bolt of lighting that blasted it right in the face caused its head to snap back as it roared in pain. The FUS-RO-DAH that flew from my mouth with a thunderclap that probably shattered Hadvar’s eardrums and heard from miles away blasted it onto its back. The giants huge bulk no deterrent at all to the devastating effects of a dragonborn unleashing the full fury of a thu’um.

I myself was moving even before it had hit the ground. A risky gamble that paid off, as the giant had barely time to register the fact that it had hit the ground before my new axe broke open its skull, embedding itself into its brains.

“You fight well for an elf,” came to voice of a woman clad in rather… risqué armour with a bow in her hand. If I was to guess I’d say she was perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties at most. Long red hair, deep green eyes and three stripes of blue warpaint across her face in the shape of claw marks.

“I’ll have you know that my mother was a Nord,” I told her coldly. While I have no people with people looking on me as an elf ( I both look and identify myself as a Dunmer after all) I do protest when people try to use it as an insult.

“Yes… I can see it,” the woman said as she studied me more closely, trying to identify my Nord traits that were cleverly hidden by my mostly Dunmer dominated traits.

“You would do well as a Shield-Sister,” she said. “Come see us in Jorrvaskr if you desire to be part of the Companions.”

Well that was unexpected at least. I was more used to the fact that one had to request (in some cases beg) to join up with a Guild, but then again, the Companions weren’t exactly a guild either. “Perhaps one day,” I said slowly, trying to not cause any insult. “I have business with the Jarl first, and then in Winterhold for some time after.”

“Going for the College I assume,” she said dryly.

“Indeed,” I said as I cleaned the blood away from my axe. “Aurora Delvanni,” I said as I held out my hand.

“Aela,” she replied as she grasped my arm in a strong grip. “Come back to Jorrvaskr if you change your mind,” she said as she walked off with her three other companions.

“I might just do that,” I muttered as I slung my axe over my back again. “Pick your jaw off the ground Hadvar,” I said with a grin to my friend. “The Jarl isn’t going to come to us after all.”


I'M BACK...for now at least
As you see I've addaded a 'touch' more of reality to it all. So instead of running from Riverwood to WHiterun in an hour or so (in-game-clock that is) I've added size to the land of Skyrim, and will also make the cities and villages larger as well, both in terms of dwellings and inhabitants, as the amount of NPC's in SKyrim wouldn't be near enough to sustain a population for an entire country. This decision was first made actually when Alvor's daughter mentioned in game that she and her mother used to visit the market in Whiterun once a month or so before the Civil War, and I immediately thought 'only once a month? Whiterun isn't that far away' so that made me decide to add to the size and scope of the land.

I also decided to add a bit more 'mystique' to the word walls, such as making it possible to learn more than just one word, after all, the Dragonborn is supposed to have instinctual knowledge of the language of dragons and all that, so there will be changes there, such as learning more than one word from a wall, also the whole 'consume an entire souls and its power/knowledge from a dragon to unlock ONE word' always felt a bit silly to me, so 'consuming' a soul will do more than unlock a single shout. Rather it will add some power to the shouts, as well as of course add to Aurora's knowledge of dragons, and also make it easier for her to use shouts, as since we've seen, using a shout can have rather adverse effects, such as making her collapse or even gain internal injuries to the point where she is coughing up blood.

Anywho, I hope you all enjoyed this update, so read and review while I run off to write more.

Posted by: mALX Feb 3 2017, 02:42 AM

TELLIE!!!!


You're back Writing!!! WOO HOO !!!!!!!!