Chapter 6 – Flames of the Past 

After the eventful incident back at Vilemyr Inn, Eviryn started back on her route to Winterhold. She chose that destination because the Mages’ Guild franchise in Skyrim, otherwise called as the College of Winterhold, was obviously located there. But there was another reason. 

Eviryn used to be part of the Imperial Mages’ Guild in Valenwood, home of a lot of Wood Elves and a few Argonian families, one of which was her foster family after her father’s death. She never had a mother to fondly call, as she died shortly after giving birth to her. However, a few years after joining the Guild, she was approached by a member of the Psijic Order, who forewarned her about a grave mystical danger in Skyrim. That member immediately vanished after delivering the message, leaving Eviryn extremely intrigued and equally puzzled. 

Nevertheless, the nature of the said threat made her realize that she should reach the College in Skyrim and investigate the threat. Also, being a high-ranking member of the Imperial Mages’ Guild made it easy for her to find an official reason to go to Skyrim, which was nothing more than a heavily fabricated excuse in her eyes. Still, she got her approval in six weeks’ time and started her journey two months prior to the Ivarstead incident. 

She had also planned her journey from the start, a trait she picked up from her foster father, ,who was one of the most influential Argonian businessmen in Valenwood. According to that plan, she decided to stop inside the Eldergleam Sanctuary, but not before she gained the blessing of the Ancestral Standing Stone of the Atronach. She knew that she could use that kind of blessing for the upcoming danger. 

Currently, she was on her way to the Stone after crossing the river via Darkwater Crossing, when she happened upon an unknown person in black robes. She mentally sighed in frustration, as that must’ve been the tenth conjurer she had to put down during her travels. Hence, she used her staff to quietly summon the usual Dremora, and ordered it to kill any summoned Oblivion creatures and restrain the conjurer. After a good two minutes, she reached the Stone and activated it. 

The Ancestral Standing Stone of the Atronach is a seemingly useless Stone for most of the Nords of Skyrim, as they value prowess in combat and bravery in facing the enemy while actually attracting unwanted attention with their battlecry and making the fight twice as tough as it could’ve been. But for a mage, absorbing magicka from hostile spells can actually turn the tides of a mage battle and is a small price to pay for slower magicka regeneration, which is what the Atronach Stone gives as a blessing. 

As soon as she activated the Stone, the centre of the hole in the Stone lit up, particular points marked on the Stone shone brightly, and the light shot up to the sky. Then she was able to feel the blessing take effect. Which was mainly because of her heightened mystical resonance due to almost eight decades of experience. 

Having finished her current objective, she took her personal diary and wrote the following :

“Today I gained a unique blessing. I hope this’ll be enough for what I might face in the future……” 

Author’s note: 

Hey guys, this is the first part of a mini-trilogy for the Eviryn Sathvos storyline, in which this chapter tells about her past, and the next two about her present and future. This isn’t my finest work, but I’m busy almost every day and I get some time only at nights. 

And, extremely sorry for just conjuring whatever the story needs, but I guess it’s inevitable when you’re literally starting with bits and pieces. 

Ancestral Standing Stone of the Atronach looks like this :

As usual,  criticism is encouraged. 

Peace. 

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Author’s urgent note

Guys. I’m really sorry if any images aren’t displaying correctly. I’ve had to remove some images to save storage space. I’ll remove those parts from the blog posts and hopefully show more discretion towards images in the future. 😜

Also, I’m going to introduce another character after Eviryn, but I’m going to deal with each of their storylines in groups of four, i.e. 4 chapters on Akh’jiradh, 4 chapters on Eviryn and 4 chapters on my next original character. Also, the storylines will be, for the major part, mutually exclusive, but not always, because I have some plans for crossovers that can turn out to provide very interesting possibilities for the individual character depth and overall storyline richness. 

Also, I’ll mostly be bringing in a few extra Elder Scrolls, other than the ones mentioned in-game, to help skew my overall narrative towards the direction I want to proceed with. 

For people who are unaware of what an Elder Scroll is, I guess the best explanation can be provided by going to the link elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Elder_Scrolls

So, to summarise, I’ll be writing about Eviryn for three more chapters. And Chapter 9 will introduce my final original character. And I hope everyone will excuse the change in background color. 

Peace again. 

P.S. poojablogger, Elspeth Aurilie check out the following three chapters and give any comments on how I can improve Eviryn. 😁

Chapter 5 – Wisps of Change in the Air 

Elsewhere, in the city of Ivarstead…….

Dusk had already fallen three hours ago in this mostly lazy hamlet that serves as a base camp for all folk wanting to climb the 7000 steps to High Hrothgar, which basically accounts to just a few devout pilgrims and a stocky Nord, Klimmek, who takes salted fish and meat to the Greybeards living on the top. All is quiet, mostly. Any town that has an inn providing food and drink will always have that one group that likes to cause an inebriated ruckus, either inside or outside. With Ivarstead, the Vilemyr Inn serves the same purpose as most inns. 

Today, however, the ruckus has reached a new high. Maybe not to the level where chairs start flying, but to the level where unwanted touching might happen if the barmaid isn’t careful. And such is the case with the local barmaid, Lynly Star-Sung, who unfortunately is also a really good bard with a sweet voice, making it difficult for her to currently release herself from the clutches of a heavily drunk bulky Wood Elf.

“Come on, sweet cheeks. Let’s have some fun under the covers. What say you, doll?”, asks the Wood Elf. “Let go of me, you idiotic twat!!!”, cried Lynly, struggling in her captor’s arms. “Mind what you’re talking, bitch. Otherwise I’ll make it tougher than you can handle.”, challenged the Wood Elf. To which she replied back, “Do your worst, you uncouth spawn from Oblivion!!”. And she immediately regretted saying that. 

To which the Wood Elf lost all control and roughly threw Lynly down on the rough-cut stone floor, giving her a lot of cuts and bruises. Then he ordered the mercenaries he had hired to restrain her while he started undoing his trousers. “I told you to be careful, you stupid bitch. Now your punishment is a Wood Elf’s wood followed by the others!!!” And he laughed maniacally. 

Until he couldn’t. 

He tried hard, but it didn’t matter. He was completely paralysed by an unknown force and was stuck in the same position of kneeling. The mercenaries looked up to find out who did that, hence they started interrogating the other guests. One of the mercenaries reached a lone table with a single candle and saw a slender womanly figure in hooded dark brown mage robes, reading a book. “Hey, you. Magic wuss. Know who paralysed my boss?”, asked the mercenary. The woman, a Dark Elf, said in a deep husky voice characteristic of their race, “Go place your enquiries somewhere else. I am currently occupied in understanding the contents of this rare book.”. The mercenary got really angry, and grabbed the woman’s wrist forcefully while saying, “Answer me, bitch. Otherwise I’ll break your thin face with my bare hands!”. The Dark Elf said, “Suit yourself.” before creating an ice spike in her trapped hand and shoving it right through the mercenary’s brain. He fell down with a dull thud on the floor. 

Before the other mercenaries could react however, the Dark Elf mage conjured a Familiar with her left hand and a Dremora with a long staff having a rose-like design at the end. While the conjured beings immediately attacked and dispatched the major group of mercenaries, the Dark Elf focused her attention by driving a chained lightning bolt through the members restraining Lynly, effectively shocking and killing them. As to the paralysed Wood Elf, she whispered “Do you know wood burns to a grey ash?” in the Wood Elf’s ear while creating small flames at various parts of his body. The Wood Elf could only scream silently as he slowly burned to nothingness and ash. 

The mage helped Lynly to her feet, adjusted her dress and quickly left Ivarstead, casting an invisibility spell on herself. After a short distance, she sat under a tree and opened a book on which were embroidered golden letters, which when read out, said “The Journal of Eviryn Sathvos”. She took a quill and, using ink from a small potion bottle, started writing, 

“Today I saved another female soul from a horrible fate, just like my father wished…..” 

Author’s note :

Hey guys!! So sorry for the extended delay. Figuring out a lot of stuff and working odd hours. So, this new character, the Dark Elf mage known as Eviryn Sathvos, is a product of these two questions, “What if we expand our storyline with more characters?” & “How do we visualise a mage and bring it on paper?” 

 A possible concept art for Eviryn could be: 

 Here she’s shown casting a lightning rune. 

A typical Dremora looks like this:

The staff used by Eviryn to summon the Dremora looks like this

For people not familiar with Skyrim, all the magical terms will be explained in successive chapters. 

For Skyrim players, you know what the staff is! 😉

Criticism is encouraged. Peace. 

Chapter 4 – The Sands of Revenge 

A few hours after the messy defeat of a certain cannibalistic Orc, Akh’jiradh was happily munching on some fried diced potatoes specially made by his grandfather Ri’saad. Unlike most assassin-thieves, or even Khajiit for that matter, Akh’jiradh had a lot of compassion and respect towards animals in general. Although he has no compunction in killing any wild wolf that was idiotic enough to try and attack him, he never liked people who were cruel towards the domesticated variety. This also made him to stick to vegetarianism, which was quite a bold move considering how harsh Skyrim can be when it’s cold. Nevertheless, Akh’jiradh was always a strong-willed person, even from his days as a kitten. 

Ri’saad, respecting his decision, quickly made a scrumptious dish using about half-pound of potatoes and roasting them over a slow fire after covering them with a separate paste with flour, water and the rarest spices from Hammerfell and Elsewyr and ground chilli from Morrowind. Being one of the most influential traders in Skyrim certainly had its perks when it came to cooking. After cooking for Akh’jiradh, Ri’saad then prepared a nice meat-and-vegetable stew for himself and for the two Khajiit females namely Atahbah and Khayla, while roasting a few chicken legs for their final companion, Ma’randru-jo. 

After dinner, the now five-member Khajiit gang sat down and listened to Ma’randru-jo playing with a lute. He was quite the musician, thereby making everyone enjoy his delicate method of plucking the strings. Finally, everyone decided to call it a day, and went to their individual bedrolls. Akh’jiradh was invited to sleep in the tent with Ri’saad. 

And he did. For a couple of hours

Then the same nightmare that plagued him during his time as an Imperial prisoner ready to get his head chopped off resurfaced from the depths of his subconscious. He woke again, but slowly. He didn’t want Ri’saad to get wind of his nightmares as it was one of the very few things Akh’jiradh felt ashamed of. Methodically, he got up, wrapped his bedroll and kept it in a corner, and headed out to train himself. 

His training regimen consisted of flexibility exercises and air-fighting alongwith training in sets of movements in the Swift Paw style of unarmed combat, which was designed by himself to improve his breathing pattern, reflexes, stamina and endurance. In the midst of his training, he was practicing a one-sided twisting pounce and landed on his feet, only to see Ri’saad standing a few feet away from where he was practicing. 

Akh’jiradh immediately stopped and faltered, twitching his tail nervously. He was quite unsure as to how Ri’saad managed to observe him unnoticed. Carefully, he approached his grandfather and could only manage to speak, “Urada. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

Ri’saad had a pained look in his eyes, a look so subtle only Akh’jiradh could figure it out. He said, “I know about the vakona’a di qoj, my dearest qizatu’jor. I’m old, not ignorant or stupid. But, if your ever plan on conquering your devils, you must face them. But there’s a way to face Ondolemar and settle your score once and for all.” 

Akh’jiradh narrowed his pupils at the mention of the Thalmor’s name. He asked, “How?” 

Ri’saad said, “Go. Now. Travel to Riften. Meet this Nord by the name of Brynjolf. And take this coin. Its made of moonstone and if he suspects you, show him this coin and say the words, ‘Tak’oh Toket’. He’ll lead you down your path of revenge.” 

Akh’jiradh realized the seriousness in Ri’saad’s words. Within fifteen minutes, he packed his belongings and kneeled down to receive his grandfather’s blessings. Ri’saad blessed him by saying, “May Khenarthi move your hands correctly, may Rajhin push your feet forward and keep your brain alert, and may the Riddle’thar guide you through warmer sands.” 

Akh’jiradh, with a huff of finality, left the Khajiit trading caravan to Riften. 

Elsewhere, on a higher plane of existence than Tamriel, a hooded lady shrouded in darkness with three ravens circling around her smiled a little. 

And she whispers, “A shadow approaches. With intensity. Only time will show the depths of its darkness.” 

Author’s note : 

Hey guys!! Extremely sorry for the delay in posts. Got stuck up in college obligations. And, as usual, the Ta’agra translations are as follows :

  • Urada – Sorry / Apologies
  • Vakona’a di qoj – Visions of Fear (Nightmares) 
  • Qizatu’jor – grandson 
  • Tak’oh Toket – Strike, not Scratch 
  • Khenarthi – Khajiiti goddess of Winds
  • Rajhin – Khajiiti god known as The Silent Walker 
  • Riddle’thar – Khajiiti cosmic order guidelines 

The big baddie Ondolemar looks like this : 

Reviews and criticism are equally encouraged. 

Peace. 

Chapter 3 – Conflicted Reunions 

Having ​restocked his supplies in the midst of his acrobatic execution fiasco back at Riverwood, Akh’jiradh proceeded to Silent Moons Camp in order to vanquish the bandits who employed Casinthal. Normally, any person would question themselves as to why they should bother to even kill so many people, but years of ruthlessness and unforgiving conditions had completely rendered Akh’jiradh’s sense of reason numb. He had nothing to either fear or regret

Finally reaching the site, Akh’jiradh made camp (which actually meant finding a place to sit and hide) and waited till nightfall. Although he could be efficient in sneak kills at any time of the day, he loved the feeling of blood dripping from his claws under the light of the twin moons of Tamriel. Hence he always chose to hunt his prey during the night. 

After making short work of the bandits found on the outside, he then proceeded to the inner chambers of the Nordic ruin. He treaded carefully, but was disappointed on finding only bodies of either Draugr or people. Nevertheless, he walked towards the bandit chief’s room. There he found a burly Orc sharpening his axe on a grindstone. 

Before Akh’jiradh could get the drop on him though, the Orc spoke, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the vengeful cat that wishes to kill me!” 

Akh’jiradh stopped dead in his tracks, not because he was detected, but because he recognized the voice.

Balagog gro-Nolob. What’s the matter, Gourmet? Normal food became too boring for you?”, said Akh’jiradh, slowly retreating to a corner, crouched and ready to pounce. 

The Orc finishes sharpening his orcish axe and rises from the grindstone. He then proceeds to adopt a fighting stance and slowly moves to the side. Then he says, “How right you are. Of course I got bored. After I learnt of the taste of different races, I realized what we’ve missed in our cuisine.”

Akh’jiradh could only grunt mockingly, “Well, I’m not sure why you recruited a whole bandit gang when you could’ve just stealthily killed people in their sleep and relished their taste.” 

Balagog said in a challenging tone, “To savour the kill, one must get one’s blood pumping. The thrill of the chase makes the final cooked meat all the more…..tastier“.

Akh’jiradh growled, “You’re insane.” To which Balagog replied, “You’re judging me? Pot, meet kettle.” And added, “Now I’d like to chat, but all this talking’s made me hungry. You’ll make a fine roast, cat!!!“. Saying so, he bellowed a loud primal roar and proceeded to charge at Akh’jiradh. The Khajiit, on the other hand, noticed the Orc’s eyes just in time to notice the bloodshot vessels, and jumped out of the way. He sprinted out of the room and into the receding rooms with the Orc close to his heels. Finally, he exited the inner chambers, all the while figuring out an old alchemy lesson from when he was an adolescent and starting his theiving days. 

Akh’jiradh had enough common sense to realize that Balagog had gone into his berserker rage, which was evident from his eyes. But he was finally able to remember a potion that was especially lethal to berserker Orcs. Adding a Daedra Heart, two giants’ toes, and four clusters of juniper berries to a standard paralysis potion and mixing it with a portion of Ice Wraith Essence in the ratio of 1:3 can completely paralyze and kill even the strongest of Orcs. And Akh’jiradh made sure he had a well-stocked bag of ingredients, even if he couldn’t find food. Unfortunately, he could only create about 10 ml of this potion, giving him serious doubts about its effects. Nevertheless, he coated all three of his green blades with the potion and waited until Balagog was within striking distance. Unknown to both of them, another person was keenly watching this fight, stroking his light goatee beard. Akh’jiradh finally rammed the blades into the Orc, one in the heart, one in the hip and the final one at the base of the spinal cord, doing all of this in one swift move. However, to Akh’jiradh’s utter shock, Balagog kept attacking him, landing a few vicious strikes on the Khajiit which was too shocked to react. Akh’jiradh stumbled and fell down, bleeding profusely from his temple and stomach. Balagog triumphantly quoted, “The classic berserker poison, eh? Well, if I hadn’t developed a resistance for it, I’d be frozen like a statue now. Too bad. Time to relish your hide!” 

But before he could deliver the killing stroke, he was hit from behind by two streams of electricity, which made him convulse violently. The caster of that spell said, “Either the poison kills you, Orc, or I apply an electric spark-channel and the poison squeezes the flesh from the pores of your skin.” And that is exactly what happened with the cannibal Orc, who finally collapsed in a heap of olive skin and squeezed flesh and fat. 

The caster then ran towards the fallen Khajiit, and helped him to his feet, all the while casting a Healing Hands spell to repair and seal Akh’jiradh’s wounds. As soon as Akh’jiradh regained full consciousness, he could see that his saviour was also very much like him in appearance, except he had shorter whiskers and a long tapering goatee beard from the bottom of his maw. Akh’jiradh was conflicted. He didn’t know whether to be shocked or to be happy. The saviour was someone he knew very well, and until now, was assumed dead….

“Ahziss vako’jer, qizatu ahnurr Ri’saad!!!” 

Author’s note : 

Hey guys!  So I’ve always been fascinated by Ri’saad and the way he looks/speaks, so I decided to include him as part of my character’s backstory. Now that I’m having a feeling I’ve taken too much creative liberties, I’ve decided to proceed with the usual main quests from next chapter. The potion is, quite literally, my own concoction! 

And for those who haven’t played Skyrim, Ri’saad is a Khajiit too, just like Akh’jiradh and he looks like this: 

(Ri’saad is the Khajiit in the front, with eyes closed.) 

Also, the Ta’agra words can be best translated as, “I see you, Grand Father Ri’saad!!!” 

Reviews are, as usual, encouraged.

Chapter 2 – The ‘Miraak’ulous Saviour of Riverwood 

It was nightfall by the time he had reached Riverwood. 

Akh’jiradh treaded carefully as he entered. Lawbreaking and being caught by guards was almost as commonplace to him as grooming his fur, plus the fact that he just took down a dragon made him all the more edgier. Nevertheless, he walked in as he was hungry for the most part. Clearly the unlucky wolf that got roasted by the black dragon wasn’t enough food to satiate the feline’s hunger. So, he walked down the road till he finally reached the sign that said “Riverwood Trader” with the scales hanging from the arch. Akh’jiradh opened the door and was greeted by a heated argument between a middle-aged man and another young woman. 

“You think you’ve got a better solution? C’mon, let’s hear it.”, the woman said. The man said, “I said No! No adventures, no tricks, no stupid heroics. Now go back to bed. I’m tired and this conversation is over. Understand?” 

The woman grumbled something under her breath and was about to leave when she noticed the Khajiit standing next to the door. She tensed up visibly, mainly by the fact that he barged into their conversation, and left hurriedly. Akh’jiradh, with his enhanced hearing, could make out the words, “Should’ve noticed sooner…” 

Then the man also noticed Akh’jiradh, and hastily muttered an apology and also said that he shouldn’t be here. Akh’jiradh, ever the smooth-talker, asked him to calm down and assured him that he wasn’t looking for trouble. 

The man then said, “Maybe you’re telling the truth, but my shop has seen its fair share of Khajiit traders and thieves. How can I trust you?” 

Akh’jiradh then told him, “If your name is Lucan, then I’d like you to know that Vilod sent me.” 

Lucan’s expression changed to one of surprise. He asked carefully, “Vi…Vilod? So you’re the one who survived Helgen. I’ve been made aware of the attack. So, is he alive?” The last question was barely a whisper. Akh’jiradh could only manage a shrug. 

Lucan then said, “Well, atleast I’m glad you could make it. And like Vilod would’ve told you, I’ll help you. Take whatever supplies you need. You don’t need to pay me this time. Also you can stay here for as long as you want. I’ve got a spare bedroll upstairs in Camilla’s room. Try not to wake her up. I’ll see you in the morning.” He then retired into the storeroom. 

Akh’jiradh quietly went up the stairs, and could easily find the bedroll with his night vision. But, as luck would have it, he managed to notice Camilla sleeping when she moved in her sleep. He couldn’t help but notice that his night vision made her look much better than the glow from the fireplace earlier. Mentally making a light chuckle, he went back down and allowed himself some sleep. 

Next afternoon, after waking up late and taking a quick bath down the river (where he made short work of and ate a slaughterfish and two mudcrabs which were stupid enough to try and attack him), he made his way back to the Riverwood Trader. However, he slowed his pace when he heard another argument inside. He decided that he wasn’t sticking around for another fight. Hence he went for a quick jog down the road, upto about 10 km. He then took out his map of Skyrim. 

He saw that he was about a day’s walk from Silent Moons Camp, where he knew that Casinthal’s gang of bandits where nestled in, thanks to a note half-charred retrieved from his singed corpse. He was looking forward to skinning them alive, but his thoughts were interrupted by a faint high-pitched scream coming from the town. Akh’jiradh could figure out that was Camilla’s voice and immediately climbed the rocks so as to get a better vantage point. There he saw three people wearing weird octopus masks and black robes, burning down the buildings and fighting with the local guards. They made short work of the guards and were dragging Camilla through the street. Akh’jiradh also noticed Lucan, unconscious and bleeding profusely, and decided that he can’t stay away from this as he could sense that these octopi-faced fanatics were going to rape her. So while one of the fanatics started to warn the people not to get too close unless they wanted to invite the wrath of Miraak (Akh’jiradh put that name right on his kill list), the other two dragged a screaming Camilla to a pair of trees and used a pair of shears to disrobe her. The first fanatic was chanting something incomprehensible while moving towards the wailing woman, but what happened next shocked the whole town. Camilla was especially surprised to find fresh blood on her face while she closed her eyes, only to find the first fanatic stand there transfixed with a green thick blade jutting from his mouth. That’s when the entire town learnt what a fatal mistake it was to piss off Akh’jiradh

Akh’jiradh, after throwing the blade through the first fanatic’s skull, right after he’d climbed the upper balcony of the Riverwood Trader, immediately did a double flip mid-air and landed with a soft thud and a body roll. But that wasn’t all that happened. Before he arrived at the scene and made his dramatic entrance, he had coated two other green blades, similar to the one he used first, with a magicka poison and a paralysis poison he extracted from the Frostbite Spider he killed earlier at Helgen. During his double flip, he threw the magicka poison blade at the fanatic who bound Camilla and threw the paralysis poison blade at the fanatic who disrobed her. After his landing, he wrapped his tail around the paralysed fanatic’s foot while grabbing a bow and a quiver of arrows from the wood elf lying on the ground due to a broken foot. Without pause, he shot three arrows in quick succession into the magicka poisoned fanatic’s heart and threw the fanatic at his tail into the same tree that Camilla was bound too. Then, after pausing for a few seconds, he wrenched both the daggers from the dead fanatics and used one of them to cut Camilla down while using the other to rip open the paralysed fanatic’s robe and slit his throat for good measure. Giving the robe to Camilla, he then extracted the green blades back, gave a healing potion to Camilla to use on Lucan and spared one last glance at the assembled townsfolk before sprinting away into the setting sun. 

Later that night, Camilla was tending to her brother, Lucan. After assuring herself that he’ll sleep well, he came up to her room, froze for a few seconds on seeing who entered stealthily and immediately rushed to embrace him. After what felt like an eternity, she withdrew with traces of black fur on her nightgown. Akh’jiradh was too shocked to even reply as he’d never been hugged that way by anyone. 

Camilla then broke the silence before it became awkward. 

“Words cannot express how grateful I am. You did more than save my life, you saved my brother too. I understand that you have to go, but I’ve got a gift for you.”  Saying so, she went to her table and removed an amulet looking like this : 

Akh’jiradh didn’t know what it was. Camilla then spoke up, saying that, “It’ll help you heal faster when using healing spells, should the need arise. I hope you’ll remember me.” Saying so, she gave a light kiss on his cheek which was hampered by his long whiskers. 

Akh’jiradh was transfixed. However, he regained composure and disappeared into the night through her balcony door. 

Author’s note : 

Hey guys, just got back from a LOT of work. Terribly sorry that this chapter became longer than I had originally intended.

The fanatic can be best represented like this : 

Reviews are encouraged. 

Chapter 1 – Freedom of the Convicts 

​The pounding headache wasn’t even close to what he felt next. He saw the dragon breathing fire, but he couldn’t believe his ears. The dragon was actually saying something. He could only hear the sounds of “Yau..”, “Tho..” and “..hul” before he was thrown off by the sweeping claws of the black monstrosity. Akh’jiradh landed smack-dab in the middle of a group of Imperial battlemages (who were a bit better than your average combat sorcerers in Tamriel) and bounced on his back, causing a few vertebrae to shatter. After that, Akh’jiradh could only feel excruciating pain before another blow to his head knocked him out.

When he woke again, due to a few splashes of water by a stocky man with golden hair and moustache, he felt relatively cooler. He immediately got up straight and looked around with bared fangs and claws. The stocky saviour said to him, “Whoa, hey, calm down mate! I’m not going to hurt you. You’re as safe as you can be.” 

Akh’jiradh, fangs and claws still bared, asked him, “Who are you? How did I end up here? What do you want from me?”

The man raised his hands in surrender and said, “For the love of Akatosh, I’m not an enemy. We’re in the Helgen keep. My name is Vilod and I’m going to get you to safety. Now, hold still and let me get these bindings off.” 

Akh’jiradh then paced back two paces, then did a large somersault while pushing his hands, tied at the back, through the loop faster than his legs and tails, effectively bringing the bindings in the front

Then he said, “Cut the ropes now, Vilod.” 

Vilod, who could only be taken aback by this prisoner’s dexterity, soon removed the bindings off. Then he said, “We’d better get moving. I’ve talked to that Hadvar guy and he said he’ll get us to safety. We can’t stay in this keep forever.”

As Akh’jiradh looked around at the old dilapidated excuse of a ‘keep’, he couldn’t help but agree with Vilod. Any kind of physical attack by the dragon could bury them all. 

So, the survivor duo made their way inside, Akh’jiradh collecting some potions and ingredients for potions along the way. Until they saw the bodies. Some of them were Stormcloaks, some were Imperials, but all were slashed in different ways. The trail went on, until they found Hadvar, lying in a pool of his own blood. Vilod immediately went to his side, coaxing him to speak. Hadvar could only say, “Casinthal…that butcher….” before passing out again. While Vilod tried to revive him using a healing potion, Akh’jiradh could only sit down on the ground in shock and disbelief. That look got stuck on his face even when he dispatched the Frostbite Spider that had crawled out from the spiderweb behind the enclosure they were currently sitting. 

Vilod then told, “Go, prisoner. Get away now. We’ll find another way. And don’t forget to check on my friend Lucan in Riverwood, about 10 miles downhill from here. He can also help you with supplies if you mention my name.” Akh’jiradh didn’t need to be told twice. So he ran. All the while, he could only follow the serial killer’s scent. Casinthal was the only prisoner he befriended during his period of capture. The Khajiit was amazed by the Redguard customs and thought that he was a nice person. But after seeing the corpses, something in him snapped. He made his way out of the keep, only to notice the dragon waiting right outside. 

The black dragon talked in the Khajiit’s mind (which he found strange), “My father must be stupider than I thought. Instead of a great Nord hero, he chooses a mewling kitten to kill me. No matter. I’ll devour you, for you’ll be a fine starter course for when I proceed to devour everything else!“. Then the dragon lunged at him. Akh’jiradh was swift, so he was able to see it coming and dodge to roll front. Then he broke out in a run down the hill and hid beside the riverside rocks when he saw Casinthal, burnt to a crisp. Then the dragon saw the Khajiit baring his teeth and claws on a rocky outcrop near the Ancestral Standing Stones and instantly opened its maw, ready to breathe fire and burn his would-be killer. What the dragon didn’t expect was the bloodied sickle, Casinthal’s murder weapon, to be launched right inside the throat, by a quick swish-and-flick of Akh’jiradh’s tail while he twisted sideways. And Akh’jiradh, being the thief-assassin he is, never misses his mark.

The dragon roared in pain and flew away in a hurry. Akh’jiradh sat down and chugged down a few health and stamina potions, feeling the cracked vertebrae set themselves and his tiredness vanish. While the liquids caused him much pain due to the extent of damage, he only winced for a second due to his tolerance. Then he stood up, and started walking down the path to Riverwood, twirling his whiskers while muttering a proverb he heard a long time before.

Ransej vabathzina di’vijah.” 

Author’s note:

So here’s the first chapter, the escape from Helgen. For people who’ve played Skyrim, I’ve edited the entire story since I felt that it wouldn’t feel right, since our main character isn’t needing a tutorial now. And the Ta’agra words here can be translated as “Pain is the truth of life.”, while in the prologue, Akh’jiradh’s final words can be translated as “My mother, My father, we shall walk warm sands again in heaven.” 

Reviews are encouraged. 

P.S. For non-Skyrim people, a member of the Redguard race looks like this,