Post by The Lost Traveler on Nov 2, 2014 21:06:11 GMT -5
Character Name: Hadimir
Nickname(s): Hadimir the Whitefang; Whitefang; Hadimir Whitefang
Race: Nord
Sex: Male
Age: 29
Birthplace: Whiterun
Height: 5’’11’
Weight: 175
Eye Color: Sectoral heterochomia. Hadimir has blue eyes with a sliver of gray – the “white fang” – in his left.
Hair Color: Bright blond - to the point where he often has to slather it with mud or hide it beneath a cap when sneaking.
Hair Style: His hair is tied back in a warrior’s ponytail – sheared short.
Facial Hair: A rough shadow – can become a full on mangy beard if he’s out in the wilds long enough.
Skin Color: A tanned bronze. He’s spent a good ten years or so outdoors.
Build: He has well developed muscles in the arms, shoulders and upper chest due to his heavy bow usage. He’s rather fit over all, and can and will fight up close with his twin war-axes.
Distinguishing Features: As mentioned previously, his “white fang” in his left eye is fairly noticeable. Also, when he’s about to ambush or is leaving a settlement to go on a mission he normally decks himself in face paint. Black under the eyes with two jagged fangs of gray beneath with the points reaching the ends of his lips.
Profession: Former acolyte of Talos and Stormcloak officer. Currently the head of the Stormblades, named after the previous Stormcloak rank, the squad is an ex-Stormcloak militia group that hunts down Thalmor agents in Skyrim and adjacent regions.
Skills: In order of proficiency, Ranged Weaponry, Subterfuge, One Handed Weapons, Light Armor, and Alchemy.
Magic: N/A
Training: Hadimir has three sets of training. The first was his acolyte training in his earlier boyhood within the Order of the Sun, a cult of Talos worshipers, many of which were once priests of Talos who were forced into hiding after the White-Gold Concordat. His second bout of training was at Whiterun, where he became a city guard, and lastly at Windhelm, where he undertook training as a Stormcloak.
Other Abilities: While his Charisma does not extend past his own squad, he has great leadership skills within it. His men (and woman) are devoted to him, to the point of causing some discomfort. After all, they used to use such tones solely when speaking of Ulfric!
Apparel: Hadimir still wears his old Stormcloak Officer Armor, though there’s been a few modifications to it. Where before the leggings had been a tan brown, that of hardbroiled leather, now it’s been dyed black, and the same has been done to the loincloth that hangs over the leggings. That same piece of armor has been engraved with the symbol of crossed maces (the insignia for the band), instead of eight pronged star that was there before. His boots have been enchanted with Muffle, and, lastly, while the officer’s armor has bear arms draped over the shoulders (the Stormcloaks were the bear, after all) this is where he now attaches his cloak, the bear fur melding seamlessly with the fur stitched on his shoulderguards.
And, beneath it all, hangs a single Amulet of Talos around his neck.
Weaponry: Hadimir wields a Nordic bow, dagger and twin Nordic maces. His quiver holds twenty five steel arrows, a Nordic arrow (for good luck), an eleven arrow (the arrow that killed his father – it always ends up next to the Nordic one in his quiver for some maddening reason), and three Dragonbone arrows.
Other Equipment: Hadimir has with him a small mortar and pestle (made of clay), spare ingredients for potion-making, three general poisons, weak, moderate and potent, a Poison of Paralysis, four Potions of Chameleon, and a Potion of Fortify Marksman, at any given time. He also carries with him two weeks’ worth of rations, a bedroll, a tarp, a heavily noted map (Thalmor patrol routes have been drawn and then redrawn as they fluctuate), and a journal, worn from age.
Companions:
Narrite Jugardesen: Hadimir’s right hand “man”, Narrite is the sole woman in the party, and like the rest of the Stormblades, she wears her old Stormcloak armor, dyed black, also like the other two members of the squad she has the Stormblade insignia, the crossed maces, engraved on her helm (a hide helmet). She’s also their best swordarm, often fighting at the front with a katana when the Stormblades unleash an ambush. Her fighting style makes use of both swordsmanship and hand to hand, mostly reserved to pressure points and grapples to immobilize foes. She’s fairly dexterous as well, and makes use of lunges, rolls and flips. Outside of combat, she is the squad’s foremost alchemist, having lived her life in the wilds and knowing what the plants can be utilized for – she’s taught Hadimir all he knows about the art. She also is skilled at Subterfuge, to the point where she is often chosen to go alongside Hadimir on solo missions. Kolheim had once implied rather crude insinuations of why the two are always paired together and for that she cut off a chunk of his ear, a story he jokes about frequently.
Kolheim Merkiller: Kolheim is the troublemaker of the team – a drunkard, braggart and brawler, he always makes a scene whenever they enter a settlement or town for the night. There has been times where he’s made trouble of another sort. He collects Elven ears from his kills (to replace the one he lost, he says). There have been times he bragged about the kills in a town and has brought a Thalmor sleeper agents’ attention on them. Since then Hadimir has forbidden him to speak of their missions in town, even if he can relate to the man’s fierce blood-thirst for the Thalmor. He wears his old Stormcloak armor, dyed black, with the insignia on his horned helm. He is skilled two handed weapons and wields a giant dwemer warhammer.
Lynoldi Skaalson: Not much is known about Lynoldi. The squad does know that he came from Solstheim ten years ago, right after the Dragonborn’s alleged visit there. He joined the three-man-cell when the Civil War was already over. Even when he takes his helm off, his face is still unreadable. For a while the squad, and Kolheim in particular, had trouble trusting him, but he proved himself in time. He is skilled at blocking with a Hide shield and one handed weaponry, with a fine steel war axe.
Affiliation: Veteran of the Skyrim Civil War, close ties to the city guard and the Gray-Manes of Whiterun, acolyte of the fallen Order of the Sun.
Religious Belief: Hadimir was a follower of the Order of the Sun, a underground cult of Talos worshippers. They preserved many rituals and ordinations that priests of Talos originally followed prior to the White-Gold Concordat. Since the Order’s eradication by the Thalmor, the practice of his faith has only been maintained by the study and memorization of his journal. As he is now openly antagonistic against the Thalmor, he can openly worship Talos among his squad, and often help lead them all in prayer.
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual.
Relationship Status: Engaged. It turned out Kolheim was right to suspect. Narrite and Hadimir had been in a budding relationship, however, they decided that the relationship was getting in the way of their missions so they decided to put it off until Thalmor presence has been eradicated from Skyrim. Five years later, there is talk of marriage when things settle down.
Personality: Though Hadimir is charismatic and caring for his men, be it making time to spar with Narrite, peel Kolheim off the floor of some tavern, or silently write in his journal as Lynoldi immerses himself in Tamrielic texts, he still is rather gruff and cold to outsiders. He is naturally distrustful of others, especially mers. He has a kill-on-sight policy in regards to Altmers who are related to the Thalmor or the Aldermi Dominion in any way.
He's just not so ... blunt ... about it like Kolheim.
Middas, 7th Morning Star, 4E 192
Father asked me to start this journal.
I don’t really get it, but he said something of “keeping a record.” Our people have always practiced in secret. It just is. But father said it used to be different. That a few hears before I was born some nasty people forced us into hiding. A White-Gold something or other. Anyway, he said that I should just write about what I do every day. So, here it goes.
I wake up every day, and, after my morning recitals, I do chores. I make my bed, polish our family’s Talos alter and Amulet, sweep the floor, and then join the other acolytes in making breakfast for the order. Yesterday Jarlton burned his fingers when frying dough in the oven, he made his “Wa!” sound while waving his fingers around. Oh, right. The schedule.
Well, before breakfast starts the Order says prayers. As Talos is the god of just rule and civil society, we pray for the emperor Titus Mede, that he sees the glory of Talos, and for the High King Torygg, that he learns the lesson of the Markarth Incident (I’m not sure what it is, but its apparently something important that happened after the Gold-White thing) and allows open worship.
After the meal, we get started with training. As Talos was a god-warrior-king, we too, as his followers, must take up the way of the sword. I’m … well … I’m bad at this. I can tell that father is embarrassed whenever I drop the wooden sword.
The combat training ends at noon. After we eat lunch, father and the other priests of the Order begin their ceremonies. This is when they first accept worshippers, the trickiest part of the process since the Order is meant to stay underground. Father says every worshipper is trusted so I’m not to worry. They’re mainly from Whiterun, since that’s the nearest city.
During this time the acolytes shadow the priests. To shadow is to do the same as someone. We help with the spreading of the linen, the setting up of the shrine, the passing of the meat and mead, and the lining up of the people for the blessing. When I’m not doing anything, I stand with my hands clasped behind my back in front of the doors. I wouldn’t tell father this, but I always think the service is boring.
After service, which lasts about three hours, the priests spend the remaining two hours before supper listening to supplications from the people. A supplication is to state problems in your life and ask for help. The supplications mainly have to do with the banning of worship and the requesting of other centers of worship to be set up in the other Holds, that way they don’t have to travel miles to Whiterun to worship. Father says that the Order has to be cautious when it expands – if the wrong people find out the bad guys might find out too.
After supper there’s the “rest period”, for the priests that means meditation, reading or praying, for the kids that means playing! I normally play tag or hide and seek with the other acolytes in the courtyard, but we also do make believe battles, like the Battle of Sancre Tor.
Lastly, after the meal is over and we’re tired from playing, father and the other priests gather the acolytes and get them ready for bed. This is my favorite part of the day, when father goes over the stories of Talos. These are always neat. Stories of war, magic and adventure! Anyway, it starts off with Talos, uh, Hjalti Early-Beard then (Eor never believes me when I say that was his real name) learning the way of the sword in Skyrim, then he goes to war against the Reachmen at twenty and then received his vision from a long-dead Nord king and then was called to meet the Graybeards. That’s why I’ll make the pilgrimage up the Seven Thousand Steps when I’m twenty too, but that seems like forever now. Anyway, that’s where we are right now in the bedtime stor – uh, I mean, the Scriptures.
So, yeah, that's how my days go.
Father asked me to start this journal.
I don’t really get it, but he said something of “keeping a record.” Our people have always practiced in secret. It just is. But father said it used to be different. That a few hears before I was born some nasty people forced us into hiding. A White-Gold something or other. Anyway, he said that I should just write about what I do every day. So, here it goes.
I wake up every day, and, after my morning recitals, I do chores. I make my bed, polish our family’s Talos alter and Amulet, sweep the floor, and then join the other acolytes in making breakfast for the order. Yesterday Jarlton burned his fingers when frying dough in the oven, he made his “Wa!” sound while waving his fingers around. Oh, right. The schedule.
Well, before breakfast starts the Order says prayers. As Talos is the god of just rule and civil society, we pray for the emperor Titus Mede, that he sees the glory of Talos, and for the High King Torygg, that he learns the lesson of the Markarth Incident (I’m not sure what it is, but its apparently something important that happened after the Gold-White thing) and allows open worship.
After the meal, we get started with training. As Talos was a god-warrior-king, we too, as his followers, must take up the way of the sword. I’m … well … I’m bad at this. I can tell that father is embarrassed whenever I drop the wooden sword.
The combat training ends at noon. After we eat lunch, father and the other priests of the Order begin their ceremonies. This is when they first accept worshippers, the trickiest part of the process since the Order is meant to stay underground. Father says every worshipper is trusted so I’m not to worry. They’re mainly from Whiterun, since that’s the nearest city.
During this time the acolytes shadow the priests. To shadow is to do the same as someone. We help with the spreading of the linen, the setting up of the shrine, the passing of the meat and mead, and the lining up of the people for the blessing. When I’m not doing anything, I stand with my hands clasped behind my back in front of the doors. I wouldn’t tell father this, but I always think the service is boring.
After service, which lasts about three hours, the priests spend the remaining two hours before supper listening to supplications from the people. A supplication is to state problems in your life and ask for help. The supplications mainly have to do with the banning of worship and the requesting of other centers of worship to be set up in the other Holds, that way they don’t have to travel miles to Whiterun to worship. Father says that the Order has to be cautious when it expands – if the wrong people find out the bad guys might find out too.
After supper there’s the “rest period”, for the priests that means meditation, reading or praying, for the kids that means playing! I normally play tag or hide and seek with the other acolytes in the courtyard, but we also do make believe battles, like the Battle of Sancre Tor.
Lastly, after the meal is over and we’re tired from playing, father and the other priests gather the acolytes and get them ready for bed. This is my favorite part of the day, when father goes over the stories of Talos. These are always neat. Stories of war, magic and adventure! Anyway, it starts off with Talos, uh, Hjalti Early-Beard then (Eor never believes me when I say that was his real name) learning the way of the sword in Skyrim, then he goes to war against the Reachmen at twenty and then received his vision from a long-dead Nord king and then was called to meet the Graybeards. That’s why I’ll make the pilgrimage up the Seven Thousand Steps when I’m twenty too, but that seems like forever now. Anyway, that’s where we are right now in the bedtime stor – uh, I mean, the Scriptures.
So, yeah, that's how my days go.
Loredas, 10th Morning Star, 4E 192
Oh, today was really fun!
We went to Whiterun today and I got to spend the whole day with Eor! Eor is the grandson of Eorlund Gray-Mane. He’s named after his grandfather too, but everyone just calls him Eor. Father and the rest of the Order went to Whiterun to do some adult stuff, so me and the rest of the kids invited Eor to play. Instead of playing tag or hide and go seek in a tiny courtyard, we ran all up and down the streets! A couple guards told us to “Watch ourselves”, but who cares about them? They just want to play too instead of doing their boring jobs – who would want to be a city guard?
There’s one city guard who’s cool though. Commander Caius, he’s the captain of the city guard. He might be one of those Imperials who sold us out to the bad guys in the W.h.i.t.e.-G.o.l.d. C.o.n.c.o.r.d.a.t, but he hosted an archery tournament and let everyone, not just guards participate. It was my first time shooting a bow, but I managed to hit the target twice! And I brought back some prize Septims! Maybe I’m good at archery? I should tell father when we get back to see if he’ll train me in the bow instead of the blade.
It’s not what Talos did, but, still, he is the god of war, right?
Oh, today was really fun!
We went to Whiterun today and I got to spend the whole day with Eor! Eor is the grandson of Eorlund Gray-Mane. He’s named after his grandfather too, but everyone just calls him Eor. Father and the rest of the Order went to Whiterun to do some adult stuff, so me and the rest of the kids invited Eor to play. Instead of playing tag or hide and go seek in a tiny courtyard, we ran all up and down the streets! A couple guards told us to “Watch ourselves”, but who cares about them? They just want to play too instead of doing their boring jobs – who would want to be a city guard?
There’s one city guard who’s cool though. Commander Caius, he’s the captain of the city guard. He might be one of those Imperials who sold us out to the bad guys in the W.h.i.t.e.-G.o.l.d. C.o.n.c.o.r.d.a.t, but he hosted an archery tournament and let everyone, not just guards participate. It was my first time shooting a bow, but I managed to hit the target twice! And I brought back some prize Septims! Maybe I’m good at archery? I should tell father when we get back to see if he’ll train me in the bow instead of the blade.
It’s not what Talos did, but, still, he is the god of war, right?
Fredas, 16th Morning Star, 4E 192
I … I don’t even know where to start.
I’ve always known that it’s strange that I don’t have a mother. Not strange strange, just – not normal. The other acolytes all have both parents, though they’re not always both priests. And then there’s poor Finnica who was abandoned with the Order as a baby, who doesn’t even know who her parents are.
Whenever father talks about her, he only says that she was once a steward for a Jarl, so when he and the other Elders from the Order had to go into hiding, she was protected. She stayed and fulfilled her duties. But he said he heard that she was replaced a few years ago. When I asked why she didn’t join us then, he said she is not coming back.
I always took that to mean that she died. I … I guessed wrong.
It was a single knock on the Compound door (that’s what we call our hiding place – the Compound) that alerted us. Or rather, the guard who was on duty. We always have someone sitting on this old rickety chair to watch the front door that leads into this rocky tunnel that leads into the Compound. Hjorvon was the one on nightduty when the knock came.
I had just finished a game of Dragonborn (Dajorn used a stupid “Bugabugaboo” as his Thum) when I heard the noise in the Meeting Hall (where we all go to eat our meals). I stopped in the hallway that lead to the bedchambers and saw the priests and acolytes standing around three figures – newcomers. This … this was strange. We hardly ever have new faces – never three at once.
The moment the crowd spotted me on the edge they split. There I saw the three figures more clearly, two men in steel armor and a woman in those clothes I saw women wear in the Winds District in Whiterun. Maybe the men were her guards? Why is she here?
When the woman saw me she walked over. By then I was tensing up and looking behind me, trying to see if there was someone else she was walking to. When I realized it was me, then I looked behind me to escape. But then she was there, kneeling, face to face with a bright smile. “Hello.” She said.
“Hello?”
Then she hugged me, arms wrapped around my shoulders. I froze. She probably felt my body tense up. Through it all, I dimly heard her say, “Hadimir. My Hadimir.”
“Uh … do I know you?”
She pulled back, staring at me with wide eyes. Then she smiled that gentle smile again. “I’m Carrisa. Your mother.”
I’m back in the room now. Father went to speak with mo – with the newcomer and asked me to go to bed. She told me we’ll talk in the morning. I wrote in the journal right after.
I don’t know if I’ll get any sleep.
I … I don’t even know where to start.
I’ve always known that it’s strange that I don’t have a mother. Not strange strange, just – not normal. The other acolytes all have both parents, though they’re not always both priests. And then there’s poor Finnica who was abandoned with the Order as a baby, who doesn’t even know who her parents are.
Whenever father talks about her, he only says that she was once a steward for a Jarl, so when he and the other Elders from the Order had to go into hiding, she was protected. She stayed and fulfilled her duties. But he said he heard that she was replaced a few years ago. When I asked why she didn’t join us then, he said she is not coming back.
I always took that to mean that she died. I … I guessed wrong.
It was a single knock on the Compound door (that’s what we call our hiding place – the Compound) that alerted us. Or rather, the guard who was on duty. We always have someone sitting on this old rickety chair to watch the front door that leads into this rocky tunnel that leads into the Compound. Hjorvon was the one on nightduty when the knock came.
I had just finished a game of Dragonborn (Dajorn used a stupid “Bugabugaboo” as his Thum) when I heard the noise in the Meeting Hall (where we all go to eat our meals). I stopped in the hallway that lead to the bedchambers and saw the priests and acolytes standing around three figures – newcomers. This … this was strange. We hardly ever have new faces – never three at once.
The moment the crowd spotted me on the edge they split. There I saw the three figures more clearly, two men in steel armor and a woman in those clothes I saw women wear in the Winds District in Whiterun. Maybe the men were her guards? Why is she here?
When the woman saw me she walked over. By then I was tensing up and looking behind me, trying to see if there was someone else she was walking to. When I realized it was me, then I looked behind me to escape. But then she was there, kneeling, face to face with a bright smile. “Hello.” She said.
“Hello?”
Then she hugged me, arms wrapped around my shoulders. I froze. She probably felt my body tense up. Through it all, I dimly heard her say, “Hadimir. My Hadimir.”
“Uh … do I know you?”
She pulled back, staring at me with wide eyes. Then she smiled that gentle smile again. “I’m Carrisa. Your mother.”
I’m back in the room now. Father went to speak with mo – with the newcomer and asked me to go to bed. She told me we’ll talk in the morning. I wrote in the journal right after.
I don’t know if I’ll get any sleep.
Tirdas, 20th Morning Star, 4E 192
It’s been a while since I wrote in this, for the past few days I’ve refused to do anything father said, be it chores or writing in this stupid thing. I was just so … so … pissed off! Hell, I’m getting angry just thinking about it.
So yeah, father didn’t let me speak with her. In fact, she was gone in the morning when I woke up. There was no goodbye, no message, no nothing. I screamed at father, something I’ve never done before, asking “why, why.” He wouldn’t tell me why. She was gone, he wouldn’t say anything, and I was so mad that I locked myself in my room for the rest of the day.
I’m not so mad anymore.
I’m still not going to apologize to him, though.
It’s been a while since I wrote in this, for the past few days I’ve refused to do anything father said, be it chores or writing in this stupid thing. I was just so … so … pissed off! Hell, I’m getting angry just thinking about it.
So yeah, father didn’t let me speak with her. In fact, she was gone in the morning when I woke up. There was no goodbye, no message, no nothing. I screamed at father, something I’ve never done before, asking “why, why.” He wouldn’t tell me why. She was gone, he wouldn’t say anything, and I was so mad that I locked myself in my room for the rest of the day.
I’m not so mad anymore.
I’m still not going to apologize to him, though.
Morndas, 7th Sun’s Dusk, 4E 199
I rediscovered this journal after doing some cleaning up in the room the Commander leant to me. After I found it I had just left it spread out on the desk, staring at the old ink smudged on the pages. I had trailed my fingers over the words, as if by just doing that the reality of those moments, of those earlier, happier days, would be imparted into me. I have my shift in an hour or two, but I finally brought myself to write in this journal.
But, I … I can’t say what happened right after my last entry. I just, I just can’t. I’ll start off with what happened since. After the event, I staggered into Whiterun in the early morning, and was found by the city watch. It took a while for them to get the story out of me – I don’t even remember how they did. After I said my piece I just sat in the corner, not looking or speaking up at all. I think I heard snippets of conversation, talk of bringing me to the Honorhall Orphanage in Riften. But then Commander Caius approached. Apparently, he remembered me from a … from back then. Remembered how good of a shot I was with the bow – said I could be useful on the walls, and asked if I wanted to join the Whiterun guards.
What other choice did I have, really?
I rediscovered this journal after doing some cleaning up in the room the Commander leant to me. After I found it I had just left it spread out on the desk, staring at the old ink smudged on the pages. I had trailed my fingers over the words, as if by just doing that the reality of those moments, of those earlier, happier days, would be imparted into me. I have my shift in an hour or two, but I finally brought myself to write in this journal.
But, I … I can’t say what happened right after my last entry. I just, I just can’t. I’ll start off with what happened since. After the event, I staggered into Whiterun in the early morning, and was found by the city watch. It took a while for them to get the story out of me – I don’t even remember how they did. After I said my piece I just sat in the corner, not looking or speaking up at all. I think I heard snippets of conversation, talk of bringing me to the Honorhall Orphanage in Riften. But then Commander Caius approached. Apparently, he remembered me from a … from back then. Remembered how good of a shot I was with the bow – said I could be useful on the walls, and asked if I wanted to join the Whiterun guards.
What other choice did I have, really?
Morndas, 7th Sun's Dusk, 4E 199
To continue where I left off, after I was discovered by the guards they left for the Compound to see if there were any survivors. I knew there wasn’t going to be any. After only three days, I knew how they operated. They wouldn’t leave behind any Talos worshipers if they could. Once the guards left, only Caius was there. The Imperial looked me in the eye and said that, “Being a guard will be tough. I don’t know what sort of training you went through already, but I can promise you that ours will be stricter. At the moment you’re a provisional guard – still undergoing training. After a year or two of it we’ll put you in active duty. Do you understand?”
I did. I joined the guards in 198.
To continue where I left off, after I was discovered by the guards they left for the Compound to see if there were any survivors. I knew there wasn’t going to be any. After only three days, I knew how they operated. They wouldn’t leave behind any Talos worshipers if they could. Once the guards left, only Caius was there. The Imperial looked me in the eye and said that, “Being a guard will be tough. I don’t know what sort of training you went through already, but I can promise you that ours will be stricter. At the moment you’re a provisional guard – still undergoing training. After a year or two of it we’ll put you in active duty. Do you understand?”
I did. I joined the guards in 198.
Tirdas, 8th Sun’s Dusk, 4E 199
Since the morning’s started, I’ll give my new daily schedule.
My mornings start by being stirred awake. The living quarters of the guards’ barracks is dim and bleak, solid stone walls on all sides, with the only light issuing from the goat-horn lamps hung from the ceiling in the next room over, lamps that are extinguished come nightfall. So the guards often need to be shaken up by another in order to wake up on time for their shifts. This morning I’m going on my usual patrol with Erjanor and Hjorbjorn. I’m a Plains Guard. The guards are split up to the three separate districts, and only the most competent end up assigned to the Clouds District. As a young guard, barely a year out of training, I’m assigned with the other youths in the Plains District. I say “youths”, but I’m still the youngest. I have a year to go until I reach the age of majority.
The Plains Guards have set patrols through the district. I usually take routes 3 – 5. I walk those routes for about three hours or so, then switch off with either Erjanor or Hjorbjorn, that way we’re not walking all day. When on patrol, a guard is not allowed to just stop and talk with other city goers. We can spout one-liners as we go about our shift. Those lines normally consist of either compliments (such as the armor or weaponry someone wields) or warnings (if someone looks suspicious for some reason). I know that Erjanor occasionally gives notifications about dangerous areas around Whiterun, and that some adventurous types have gone to them. Luckily, they haven’t been many causalities.
That’s how it’s been for the last year. And I’m going to start it all over again.
Since the morning’s started, I’ll give my new daily schedule.
My mornings start by being stirred awake. The living quarters of the guards’ barracks is dim and bleak, solid stone walls on all sides, with the only light issuing from the goat-horn lamps hung from the ceiling in the next room over, lamps that are extinguished come nightfall. So the guards often need to be shaken up by another in order to wake up on time for their shifts. This morning I’m going on my usual patrol with Erjanor and Hjorbjorn. I’m a Plains Guard. The guards are split up to the three separate districts, and only the most competent end up assigned to the Clouds District. As a young guard, barely a year out of training, I’m assigned with the other youths in the Plains District. I say “youths”, but I’m still the youngest. I have a year to go until I reach the age of majority.
The Plains Guards have set patrols through the district. I usually take routes 3 – 5. I walk those routes for about three hours or so, then switch off with either Erjanor or Hjorbjorn, that way we’re not walking all day. When on patrol, a guard is not allowed to just stop and talk with other city goers. We can spout one-liners as we go about our shift. Those lines normally consist of either compliments (such as the armor or weaponry someone wields) or warnings (if someone looks suspicious for some reason). I know that Erjanor occasionally gives notifications about dangerous areas around Whiterun, and that some adventurous types have gone to them. Luckily, they haven’t been many causalities.
That’s how it’s been for the last year. And I’m going to start it all over again.
Turdas, 21st Mid Year, 4E 201
The world’s gone crazy.
While Skyrim doesn’t have an established newspaper like the Black Horse Courier, news travels swiftly by word of mouth. By noon today, messengers had ridden by horse to let all of the major holds know that High King Torygg had been killed by Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm. It’s said that the two had a duel and he slew the High King in combat – that Ulfric Shouted him apart! While the even itself is shocking, the madness comes with how it divides all of Whiterun in half. Some say that he’s nothing more than a murderer that he’s just striving after his own ambition, others say he holds onto the old ways – that he seeks to restore Skyrim to the way it ought to be before the Concordat. Two old families, the Battleborns and the Gray-Manes, old friends, are being divided over this – there may even be a feud forming.
When I talk to Eor about it, when I have time off my shift, he tells me that many of the Gray-Mane’s friends, and a few from the family itself, are flocking up north to join his cause.
“Join him in what?” I asked.
Now, those words won’t leave me be as I try to rest – Join him in what? Join him in what?
The world’s gone crazy.
While Skyrim doesn’t have an established newspaper like the Black Horse Courier, news travels swiftly by word of mouth. By noon today, messengers had ridden by horse to let all of the major holds know that High King Torygg had been killed by Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm. It’s said that the two had a duel and he slew the High King in combat – that Ulfric Shouted him apart! While the even itself is shocking, the madness comes with how it divides all of Whiterun in half. Some say that he’s nothing more than a murderer that he’s just striving after his own ambition, others say he holds onto the old ways – that he seeks to restore Skyrim to the way it ought to be before the Concordat. Two old families, the Battleborns and the Gray-Manes, old friends, are being divided over this – there may even be a feud forming.
When I talk to Eor about it, when I have time off my shift, he tells me that many of the Gray-Mane’s friends, and a few from the family itself, are flocking up north to join his cause.
“Join him in what?” I asked.
Now, those words won’t leave me be as I try to rest – Join him in what? Join him in what?
Morndas, 25th Mid Year, 4E 201
The Stormcloak Rebellion
I heard of it for the first time today. It’s been a few days since word of the fight has spread, but already Ulfic is making his move. They wish to suceede from the Empire, fight the Thalmor and the Dominion and restore Talos worship – that … that sounds like something I can get behind. I’ve been talking to Eor about it and it seems his father, Thorald, is thinking of siding with the Stormcloaks ... but it’s supposedly a secret.
I still don’t know though. It’s been so long. While I can still feel that hatred, like a black ooze, deep in the pit of my stomach for the Thalmor and what they did to the Compound, I don’t know about betraying the Empire to do it.
If only I had a sign.
Sundas, 7 Sun's Height, 4E 201
I got my sign.
So much happened in one day that I don’t even know where to begin. Ulfric Stormcloak was captured and was sent to be executed in Helgen. I thought that was the sign I was looking for – proof that the rebellion would die before I even got a chance to join it. While I heard rumors later on that he managed to escape and Helgen got torched, I brushed it off as hopeful rumors of downhearted Stormcloak sympathizers. Today I was assigned a shift at the Western Watchtower, and as the day went on and the night approached nothing truly noticeable happened.
But then I spotted a dragon on the horizon.
I had been standing on the top of the tower with my bow, as I had both a good shot and good eyesight that made me the perfect sentry. So, I was the first to spot it, gliding on the winds, flapping skeletal wings that were no more than wavy lines at this distance. At first, I mistook it for a bird, but as it drew nearer I felt my eyes widen and my mouth dry as comprehension dawned. Hurriedly, I blew the horn to alert the tower of approaching enemies. Since they didn’t see anything on the ground, my superior at the time, Captain Julius (an Imperial) thrust open the trap door, stood up and demanded to know what was going on.
A second later he was on flame and tumbling over the side of the tower.
I jumped down the trapdoor. I couldn’t be caught out there in the open for it to do another fly-by. I and the other watchman took positions on the spiral stairs, shooting through gapping windows as the dragon let out torrents of flame and scratched at the walls with taloned claws.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the guards hightail it out of the door and make his way over the plains to Whiterun. Thank the Nine, reinforcements. I thought at the time. I just didn’t realize what sort of reinforcements we were getting. Irilith came, along with her men, and, one other woman, a stranger. I would later learn this same woman was another survivor from Helgen.
I would learn that she was a Dragonborn. The last Dragonborn.
I found out when, eventually, the beast did go down. After that was a scene that has not left me. It would probably never leave me till the day I die. Once the dragon was finally slain, all its skin, flesh and scales went up in flames. Then, a wind billowed out from it like a gust in a storm. A wind of vibrant colors, of reds, yellows, blues and greens. It swarmed the woman, curling and swirling around her until it died, leaving a faint glow that ensnarled her.
Thinking back, I think … I think I fell in love with her at that moment.
While two fools argued about what it means to be a Dragonborn and the legends, I just stared at her.
Now, back in the barracks, in the depths of night when I should be asleep, my mind won’t stop working.
I wonder if I’ll ever hear of her again.
Morndas, 8th Sun’s Height, 4E 201
I spent the whole night thinking, I didn’t get any sleep at all, but I’ve decided.
I’m going to join the Stormcloaks.
The Dragonborn is in play now. I don’t know if she’ll join the Stormcloaks, the Imperials or take no side at all, but there’s no way I can live a normal life after this. I’ll pack up my things and head out before Hjorbjorn comes to wake me for my shift.
I guess on my way north I can stop by the Western Watchtower to take one last look at the dragon skeleton.
The Stormcloak Rebellion
I heard of it for the first time today. It’s been a few days since word of the fight has spread, but already Ulfic is making his move. They wish to suceede from the Empire, fight the Thalmor and the Dominion and restore Talos worship – that … that sounds like something I can get behind. I’ve been talking to Eor about it and it seems his father, Thorald, is thinking of siding with the Stormcloaks ... but it’s supposedly a secret.
I still don’t know though. It’s been so long. While I can still feel that hatred, like a black ooze, deep in the pit of my stomach for the Thalmor and what they did to the Compound, I don’t know about betraying the Empire to do it.
If only I had a sign.
Sundas, 7 Sun's Height, 4E 201
I got my sign.
So much happened in one day that I don’t even know where to begin. Ulfric Stormcloak was captured and was sent to be executed in Helgen. I thought that was the sign I was looking for – proof that the rebellion would die before I even got a chance to join it. While I heard rumors later on that he managed to escape and Helgen got torched, I brushed it off as hopeful rumors of downhearted Stormcloak sympathizers. Today I was assigned a shift at the Western Watchtower, and as the day went on and the night approached nothing truly noticeable happened.
But then I spotted a dragon on the horizon.
I had been standing on the top of the tower with my bow, as I had both a good shot and good eyesight that made me the perfect sentry. So, I was the first to spot it, gliding on the winds, flapping skeletal wings that were no more than wavy lines at this distance. At first, I mistook it for a bird, but as it drew nearer I felt my eyes widen and my mouth dry as comprehension dawned. Hurriedly, I blew the horn to alert the tower of approaching enemies. Since they didn’t see anything on the ground, my superior at the time, Captain Julius (an Imperial) thrust open the trap door, stood up and demanded to know what was going on.
A second later he was on flame and tumbling over the side of the tower.
I jumped down the trapdoor. I couldn’t be caught out there in the open for it to do another fly-by. I and the other watchman took positions on the spiral stairs, shooting through gapping windows as the dragon let out torrents of flame and scratched at the walls with taloned claws.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the guards hightail it out of the door and make his way over the plains to Whiterun. Thank the Nine, reinforcements. I thought at the time. I just didn’t realize what sort of reinforcements we were getting. Irilith came, along with her men, and, one other woman, a stranger. I would later learn this same woman was another survivor from Helgen.
I would learn that she was a Dragonborn. The last Dragonborn.
I found out when, eventually, the beast did go down. After that was a scene that has not left me. It would probably never leave me till the day I die. Once the dragon was finally slain, all its skin, flesh and scales went up in flames. Then, a wind billowed out from it like a gust in a storm. A wind of vibrant colors, of reds, yellows, blues and greens. It swarmed the woman, curling and swirling around her until it died, leaving a faint glow that ensnarled her.
Thinking back, I think … I think I fell in love with her at that moment.
While two fools argued about what it means to be a Dragonborn and the legends, I just stared at her.
Now, back in the barracks, in the depths of night when I should be asleep, my mind won’t stop working.
I wonder if I’ll ever hear of her again.
Morndas, 8th Sun’s Height, 4E 201
I spent the whole night thinking, I didn’t get any sleep at all, but I’ve decided.
I’m going to join the Stormcloaks.
The Dragonborn is in play now. I don’t know if she’ll join the Stormcloaks, the Imperials or take no side at all, but there’s no way I can live a normal life after this. I’ll pack up my things and head out before Hjorbjorn comes to wake me for my shift.
I guess on my way north I can stop by the Western Watchtower to take one last look at the dragon skeleton.
Loredas, 13th Sun's Height, 4E 201
I finally made it, before me stands Windhelm, the Stormcloaks, my future.
This was a long week. The wilderness of Skyrim was as dangerous as I remembered from … from that place. Bears, wolves, sabre cats, and worst of all trolls are creatures that stalk the forests of Skyrim. But during this week, I, too, stalked. I had never been one for stealth, but when I can hear sounds – howls, snarls – in the distance, I learned to stay still – very still.
Now, I’m staying at the Candlehearth Hall. I’ve already talked to one of the Stormcloak guards about volunteering, I have an audience (of all things) with Ulfric Stormcloak himself in the morning! Apparently, he talks with all new recruits personally when they first enlist. To put his life at risk from possible Imperial infiltrators just to know his troops better … that, more than anything, proves that the man is worth fighting for, worth dying for.
It proves that he should be the High King.
I finally made it, before me stands Windhelm, the Stormcloaks, my future.
This was a long week. The wilderness of Skyrim was as dangerous as I remembered from … from that place. Bears, wolves, sabre cats, and worst of all trolls are creatures that stalk the forests of Skyrim. But during this week, I, too, stalked. I had never been one for stealth, but when I can hear sounds – howls, snarls – in the distance, I learned to stay still – very still.
Now, I’m staying at the Candlehearth Hall. I’ve already talked to one of the Stormcloak guards about volunteering, I have an audience (of all things) with Ulfric Stormcloak himself in the morning! Apparently, he talks with all new recruits personally when they first enlist. To put his life at risk from possible Imperial infiltrators just to know his troops better … that, more than anything, proves that the man is worth fighting for, worth dying for.
It proves that he should be the High King.
Tirdas, 14th Sun’s Height, 4E 201
I’m a Stormcloak now.
Apparently, Ulfric sent some poor soul before me on a suicide mission after an Ice Wraith. But after I showed him my Amulet of Talos and told him a bit about, about the Compund, he let me in with open arms. I’m assigned to the Falkreath Camp, under the command of Thorygg Sun-Killer, east of the ruins of Helgen. There I will be assigned my squad and begin training until the camp is ready to storm Fort Neugrad.
More traveling ahead.
I’m a Stormcloak now.
Apparently, Ulfric sent some poor soul before me on a suicide mission after an Ice Wraith. But after I showed him my Amulet of Talos and told him a bit about, about the Compund, he let me in with open arms. I’m assigned to the Falkreath Camp, under the command of Thorygg Sun-Killer, east of the ruins of Helgen. There I will be assigned my squad and begin training until the camp is ready to storm Fort Neugrad.
More traveling ahead.
Fredas, 31st Sun’s Height, 4E 201
It’s been a while since I’ve written in this thing.
Life at the camp is pretty structured. Thorygg gives us training exercises to do in the morning and through the day and then assigns us patrol routes to take in the evening. I’m assigned into a three-man squad with a man named Kolheim and a woman named Narrite. Kolheim is alright, the man’s a bit roudy, but he’s good in making merry with the rest of the camp with song, dance and revelry, though he’s taken on after Thorygg and has started to call himself Mer-Killer … despite not killing any Thalmor yet. If he does ever get around to fighting ‘em I want to join him.
As for Narrite, there’s not much to say. She’s quiet, solitary, and prefers to train with her blade in her odd fighting style than getting to know the rest of the men. In the month we’ve been here I’ve probably spoken a word or two with her at most. I doubt we’ll get along in the future.
More importantly though, a few of our men have been captured by Imperials and taken to the Fort. Apparently, the Champion himself will be arriving to help us liberate the Fort. It’s going to be the first major strike in the war.
I’m anxious.
It’s been a while since I’ve written in this thing.
Life at the camp is pretty structured. Thorygg gives us training exercises to do in the morning and through the day and then assigns us patrol routes to take in the evening. I’m assigned into a three-man squad with a man named Kolheim and a woman named Narrite. Kolheim is alright, the man’s a bit roudy, but he’s good in making merry with the rest of the camp with song, dance and revelry, though he’s taken on after Thorygg and has started to call himself Mer-Killer … despite not killing any Thalmor yet. If he does ever get around to fighting ‘em I want to join him.
As for Narrite, there’s not much to say. She’s quiet, solitary, and prefers to train with her blade in her odd fighting style than getting to know the rest of the men. In the month we’ve been here I’ve probably spoken a word or two with her at most. I doubt we’ll get along in the future.
More importantly though, a few of our men have been captured by Imperials and taken to the Fort. Apparently, the Champion himself will be arriving to help us liberate the Fort. It’s going to be the first major strike in the war.
I’m anxious.
Sundas, 2nd Rain’s Hand, 4E 211
It’s been a long time since I wrote in this thing, but, from now on, I think I’ll make it a habit. I must make it a habit.
Because I got my first lead. After all these years, I got my first damn lead.
Things have been busy for our squad in the years after that first battle. We jump camps multiple times in that year, fighting in battles all across Skyrim. In the course of it all, after all the battles we faced and survived, I was promoted to Whitefang, due to my skill with my dragonbone arrows that were crafted… not that it did much in the end. The Stormcloaks have collapsed, Ulfric is dead, and other regiments have up and joined the damn Imperials, but we, Narrite, Kolheim and a newer recruit (though it’s still been ten years), Lynoldi, have stayed behind, ambushing Thalmor patrols when we can, and that’s how I found it – that fire runed arrow with red fetching, that Thalmor patrol that slipped through our fingers.
It was him.
I’ve avoided writing it down, avoided thinking of it even, but now my blood thirsts for vengeance. All those years ago, two days after my mother left (a fact that has continued to haunt me in my nightmares) the Thalmor stormed the Compound. I watched the Elders be slaughtered in front of my eyes, the other acolytes, children my age, by sliced in half by elven blades. Then I saw him, at the head of it all, a Altmer who I knew, knew was in charge of the party, who had ordered the raid. I saw him pull back his bowstring and shoot my father in the back just as he hid me away in an alcove. I watched him burn, burn, screaming, even as he pulled the door shut and slumped on the other side of it, trapping me in place.
And he’s here. That bastard is here.
I’m going to cut him down.
It’s been a long time since I wrote in this thing, but, from now on, I think I’ll make it a habit. I must make it a habit.
Because I got my first lead. After all these years, I got my first damn lead.
Things have been busy for our squad in the years after that first battle. We jump camps multiple times in that year, fighting in battles all across Skyrim. In the course of it all, after all the battles we faced and survived, I was promoted to Whitefang, due to my skill with my dragonbone arrows that were crafted… not that it did much in the end. The Stormcloaks have collapsed, Ulfric is dead, and other regiments have up and joined the damn Imperials, but we, Narrite, Kolheim and a newer recruit (though it’s still been ten years), Lynoldi, have stayed behind, ambushing Thalmor patrols when we can, and that’s how I found it – that fire runed arrow with red fetching, that Thalmor patrol that slipped through our fingers.
It was him.
I’ve avoided writing it down, avoided thinking of it even, but now my blood thirsts for vengeance. All those years ago, two days after my mother left (a fact that has continued to haunt me in my nightmares) the Thalmor stormed the Compound. I watched the Elders be slaughtered in front of my eyes, the other acolytes, children my age, by sliced in half by elven blades. Then I saw him, at the head of it all, a Altmer who I knew, knew was in charge of the party, who had ordered the raid. I saw him pull back his bowstring and shoot my father in the back just as he hid me away in an alcove. I watched him burn, burn, screaming, even as he pulled the door shut and slumped on the other side of it, trapping me in place.
And he’s here. That bastard is here.
I’m going to cut him down.
.................................................................................................................................……………………………………
Finally done. I’ve written another doozy of a CS. Sorry for the mods/admins who are going to read over it.
A couple things:
First, I wrote Hadimir to join Dawg’s Shadow of an Empire thread, but I also want him to join GG’s new Order of the Knights of the Nine in the future. I figured he’d help structure the Brothers after his own Order of the Sun (which is an Easter Egg of sorts, “Talos” is the ancient Cretan word for “Sun”).
I look forward to hearing the feedback!
TLT
P.S. I've been fiddling around trying to make the dates the title for the spoilers instead of "Spoiler: Click to show". It's mainly for my own aesthetic enjoyment, but what is the way to include text instead of the standard default Spoiler title?
