[M] Skyrim: Rise of the Stormcloaks

[lain]

Aura was running frantically, her footsteps heavy, crunching the thick snow under her booted feet. The wind kicked up, blowing snow and ice against her pale face and pushing her hair tie out of her long white locks. She muttered something under her breath, but no one other than her would even understand what she said.

It appeared as though she was running from nothing, but after a few moments, a very persistant snow bear came barreling over the horizon after her. With trembling hands she felt she had the time to reach for her Falmer bow and ready an arrow. The arrow shot through the air, cutting through it like the sharpest knife.

Bullseye-- almost. The snow bear staggered for a moment, shaking off the arrow from its shoulder. It slowed down significantly, but it appeared determined to punish Aura for tresspassing near its lair.
A foreign curse word slipped past her lips, the bear getting closer. Why did she have to panic? Why did she have to run way from the one safe place she knew of? Now she was going to die here for no good reason other than her defiance! The past few months flashed before her eyes as she feared the bear would take her life. Even as the bear caught up to her and raised a paw to knock her down and finish her off, she shot one more arrow in desperation, not even sure if she aimed it right...

Pop! The bear fell over on its side. The last arrow had pierced it through the eye plunging deep into its brain, the fletching barely visible.

Aura sighed, falling onto her rump in the snow, catching her breath and setting her bow on the ground next to her. How far had that bear chased her? It felt like at least two miles. Actually, it felt like 10 miles because of the Paladin armor she had decided to "borrow" from Gelebor. It was a full set except for a missing helmet. Needless to say, it was heavy as Oblivion. She hadn't done a whole lot of sprinting when Gelebor was teaching her archery in the Vale. She was also carrying some animal furs; a Vale Deer hide and a Vale Sabre Cat pelt. She thought they might be worth something since Gelebor mentioned that they could only be found in the Vale.

She was, however, beginning to regret her decision to leave. She didn't completely believe her Falmer kin or Gelebor when they said that Skyrim was harsh and unforgiving... and she had a feeling she was going to discover more of that trait among not only the landscape, but the people.

But, it was too late to turn back. She had run so far east, she couldn't see the mountains on the West side of Skyrim where Darkfall cave was. She decided she had to keep going until she found some kind of shelter. So, she stood up and dusted the snow off her backside and picked up her bow. She sheathed it on her back for now, but she was on the lookout for any more bears or anything that would try to kill her.

Off in the distance, she saw a very strange looking bridge. It looked like there were also some buildings around it. There could be shelter there or she could be hunted like the rest of her ancestors.
She decided to head for the bridge and perhaps hide under it. It wasn't long before she saw some kind of skirmish happening. She kept her distance and went around the trouble. When she came to a carriage path, she pulled a hood up from under the collar of her armor over her snowy hair. She tried to nonchalently pass by a one-eyed Nord man driving the carriage with what looked like a child in tow. She was wishing that Gelebor had spent more time teaching her stealth. It was incredibly difficult not to stare, for she had never seen another race besides the Falmer or Snow Elf. Sure, she had seen illustrations of Ysgramor and his Nordic followers slaughtering her ancestors many eras ago, but never a real life...

Crunch...

She stepped on a hidden stick in the snow. Fearing she had been discovered (,though in all likelihood she was not as suspicious looking as she felt,) she made a beeline to the underside of the odd looking bridge. Looking over her shoulder a few times, she finally sat down, leaning against the cold stone of the rather awe inspiring structure. Nothing like the Dwemer ruins, but it was... pleasing to look at.

She said something to herself in her Falmer tongue, finally feeling somewhat safe to relax.

[StormWolf]

Clattering horseshoes on cobblestones drew Starkad's gaze to the north road. One smoldering eye leered over the rim of his thrice-filled flagon, the sight of the Stormcloak standard made the hoppy ale catch in his throat, opening him to a fit of coughing. Starkad slammed his tankard down, trying to cover his coughing with a fist. Mara gazed up at her father with concern in those large eyes of hers, the rest of her head obscured by hood and scarf yet her breath still fogging in the brisk air.

"Da?" she cooed, a hand tugging on Starkad's tunic. Finally clearing his throat, Starkad brushed Mara behind him as High King Ulfric marched at the head of his procession, his prime boot lickers and head pricks riding on either side with their heads held high. Starkad lowered his head and turned, fiddling with the remainder of his stocks to look like he was too busy to notice. Just a half-blind fool, a poor mountain-man not worth the notice of those whom Starkad had delivered victory to.

"Stay behind me, flower. No matter what. Da will protect you..." Starkad whispered, an arm wrapping around Mara's shoulders, holding her close.

For the love of Ysmir, just keep walking... Starkad prayed silently, his heart pounding like a war drum in his head.

"By the Blade of Talos, is who I think it is?" A raspy voice barked from horseback, a voice Starkad was more than familiar with. "Is that the fearsome Ice Wolf, I see, peddling from a cart like some filthy Khajiit?" Galmar laughed his usual laugh. Starkad could not see him, but he could envision the spittle in his beard and the caps in his teeth.

Remember your words... Starkad reminded himself, turning to face Galmar as he approached, hand resting on his axe casually, just enough to make the Stone-fist stop just outside the reach of the weapon.

"Well met, old friend," said Starkad, noting the gold and gems twinkling upon Galmar's neck and limbs. Loot from Solitude, surely. "Glad to see your office is treating you well." Galmar threw his head back in a thunderous guffaw,

"An office you were so kind to leave to me, brother." Galmar stroked his beard with a bejeweled fist, tilting his head at Starkad's rickety cart of stinking furs. "You had enough favor and pillage from the campaign to live like a jarl, Starkad. Why the pissant mercantile? Spend all your gold on strong drink and pale flesh?" Another barking laugh. Starkad had to physically bite his tongue, tasting copper in his mouth to keep from flaying the man alive with mere verbal assault.

"After the passing of my... betrothed, I decided it would be better to live honest and humble, rather than wallow in the bloodied riches of conquest." Starkad chewed his words, his calloused fingers tracing the etching on the cheek of his axe. Galmar seemed to notice, as did Ulfric and all the other leadership.

"Yet you still wear your stormcloak," Galmar mused, gesturing to the cloak clasped over Starkad's chest. Once, it was a brilliant lapis-blue, but blood and ash and mud and stained it to a grey like the skies of Winterhold.

"A cloak is a cloak, brother. Keeps my limbs warm and the snow off my back." Starkad bit back a sneer.

"So you wear the stormcloak without believing in what it stands for?" Galmar took two steps closer, and Starkad palmed his axe. Soldiers around Ulfric threatened to draw naked steel.

"I believe in a free Skyrim, Galmar. Free to worship as we please, a beacon to all of Tamriel against the Altmer and their puppet Empire..." Starkad growled, his eye baleful. Galmar's jaw worked in preparation of a retort, but Starkad pressed, "But liberty is a bitch whom you must bed on a mountain of corpses. We have our freedom, Galmar, but even with one eye I can see the jism of tyrants dripping down Skyrim's leg."

A sharp slap rapped across Starkad's knuckles, "Da! Language!" Mara hissed from behind him. Across from them, Galmar's eyes shot from Starkad to the little girl hiding behind him, clicking his tongue.

"Whom might this be, brother?" Galmar bent down, hand on his knees.

"None of your concern, Galmar. Now, unless you are going to buy something, please move along." Starkad's voice was on the verge of savage, his words bristling and serrated. Galmar's eyes glanced from Mara, to Starkad, and to the axe which was now free of its belt loop. Clicking his tongue again, Galmar tossed a couple septims at Starkad's chest and grabbed a matted pelt of mink. No further words were exchanged as Starkad watched Galmar, Ulfric, and the rest of his old life continue marching south, across the famous bridge. Once the whole column was across the bridge, Starkad took a knee and scooped up the coins from the mud, dropping them in his purse. He felt the weight of Mara's gaze upon him.

"You never talk about like that..." Mara mewled, her voice trembling. Starkad closed his eye and willed it to stay dry. "When are you going to tell me what happened?"

"When you are ready!" Starkad snapped, though immediately regretted it. Mara recoiled from him, which drove an icy pain through his chest. "Mara, look at me. What do you see?" Starkad faced her, and she measured him with those beautiful eyes. Stepping forward cautiously, she traced a slender finger over the twisting dragons, wolves, and sabercats tattooed on his arm. Sharp fingernails picked at the pale scars that broke the intricate pattern of ink.

"Old hurts..." she sniffed.

"Of all the honors and treasures I ever took or earned, the love of your mother gave me a jewel that made me richer than any king. She gave me you," Starkad paused, sniffing as well. "If the world was just, she'd be with us, but she isn't. When you are old enough, I'll tell you why, but the wound is still very fresh for Da. Be patient with your old man, aye?" Starkad cupped Mara's face. She was apprehensive at first, but eased into a hug,

"Aye, Da..."

* * * *

The following few hours had been dreadfully slow, the more lucrative merchants departing with their haul for the day. Meaning Starkad was still in place, picking at some beef trimmings so charitably given by a local townswoman. Gnawing on a bit of gristle, Starkad watched as a band of outlanders came meandering across the bridge, their cart tinning as metal rattled against metal. Wiping his hands on his coat, smearing the furs with grease, Starkad beckoned for Mara to walk with him.

"Good day, travelers," Starkad said lowly, waving a hand to the outsiders. A redguard, a bosmer, a breton, and a khajiit. It sounded like the setup to one of the foul jokes the Stormcloaks would shout over cookfires. Clearing his throat, Starkad hooked his thumbs on his belt. Not enough to be threatening, but enough to keep the axe close at hand. "First I've seen you lot set up shop here. If I'm not mistaken, that's steel I heard rattling, and not your grandmother's dinnerware. Mind if I have a look?"

[Fox Xalian]

Lucine, being at the head of the caravan, if you wanted to call their single cart a caravan, looked at the Nord man who spoke to them, signalling the Khajiit girl to reign in their horse. "Indeed, cold hard steel. Some we managed to bring out of Hammerfell and High Rock, and others were...shall we say reclaimed from less reputable individuals" she said as her sister, Amber, pulled the cloth that covered the top of the carriage off. Inside was some of the usual, steel and iron weapons that made the backbone of the weapons of Skyrim, some glass, Forsworn, Orcish and even Dwarven weapons could be found, but the main items of interest were to be found hanging in the leather rolled up on the side, which Adra undid the straps for. Rapiers, sabres, backswords, scimitars, shamshirs, a single messer sword and other weapons that would be considered exotic in Skyrim, all fastened tightly to the leather they were rolled up in. "All weapons have been fully maintained, some of the iron weapons were unsaveable for the most part, guessing bandits don't care much if their blades get chipped but I guess they could make acceptable training weapons if you desired, of course the best ones on the side of the cart here are our more interesting wares" she said. Amber knelt down, looking at Mara. "And what might your name be, little miss?" she asked, smiling. "Yes names, names are important. We all have one, mine is Lucine, with me are my sisters Adra and Amber, and this Khajiit we have driving our carriage is Dariit, or so she introduced herself after we caught her trying sneak around our camp one night" Lucine said. Amber stood back up and bowed slightly, Adra simply nodded, staying seated and watching everything carefully.

[Rayne7]

The icy wind whipped around his cloak and hood, making his outline shift and shimmer as the cloth was thrown ruthlessly back, straining the cords that held it around his body. His horse tossed it's head to show it's displeasure at being expected to make the journey in such cold conditions. Looking up, Wraith could see Dragon Bridge from under his hood though it was still a fair distance away.

His eyes narrowed as he saw the Stormcloak band riding through town, stopping long enough to speak with a man whose appearance as rugged, though what could be seen of his countenance was reminiscent of a bristling wolf, his weight shifting and his hand near his belt where Wraith assumed a weapon resided. Words between him and a man who appeared to be Galmar Stone-Fist, making the other man who sat nearby astride a black horse to be Ulfric. With Just a couple of arrows I could end the Tyrant's reign even before it begins, Wraith thought to himself, then shook his head. Even if I got away, the people would turn on Elisif. He paused, pondering that last thought. Here she is, mourning her husband, and yet she's still trying to help her people. If nothing else, I respect her resolve. Many would turn the knife on themselves like Tova Shatter-Shield...

Clucking his tongue, he nudged Shadowmere into a trot. As he approached, one of the guards noted his horse and marked it's red eyes well, knowing the person who rode the horse. Motioning to others to let him pass, he nodded to Wraith, who tossed him a small pouch of coin. "Hail Sithis." the guard said quietly, testing the heft of the pouch before putting it away.

Wearing his black clothes under his cloak, Wraith held little attention for the people of Dragon Bridge aside from the assortment of weapons he carried, though he had shifted his bow and quiver to hang from the side of his horse, and he had wrapped his swords in his bedroll, leaving his axes and daggers on his person. Seeing the man and child whom had confronted the Stormcloak soldiers, he marked them in his mind to meet later. He went on to the tavern to arrange for lodging for the night.

Hours later, he sat on a bench with his back to the table, watching the people mill about as they settled for the eve. A band of what appeared to be mercenaries had appeared in town, and now he watched as some of them entered the tavern in search of food and mead. It was a sight all too familiar for the assassin. Shaking his head, he eyed what was left in his mug with a critical eye as he pondered whether he wanted more. Deciding not, he finished the remainder and left.

Seeing the mercenaries showcasing merchandise in the back of their wagon for the man he'd marked earlier, he noted the variety of weapons they seemed to have on sale. He approached slowly, hearing them make introductions. Eyeing the scimitars and shamshirs, he let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Quite the armory you have. Haven't seen such variety very often. Those shamshirs alone are a rarity; you could probably fetch pretty good coin for them."

[lain]

The exhausted Snow Elf had quickly drifted off to sleep under the Dragon Bridge. She awoke after only a couple of hours, no doubt awake from the bad dreams her high anxiety was giving her. She still felt exhausted, but she made herself stand up, feeling her stomach begin to growl. She looked around, laying eyes on the traveling carriage with the woman driver. She had to decide if she was hungry enough to try and interact with anyone...

She was. Very much so.

Hesistantly, she headed towards the carriage, making sure her hood was pulled up. She was trying to remember words relating to buying and selling.

"Trade... sell... price... food..." she muttered a few, finally reaching the carriage. She looked at the people around briefly, but then pulled out the Vale animal furs and set them on the side of the carriage.

"Trade food. Sell gold. Pick." She gestured towards her items, hoping her broken language would be understood.

[StormWolf]

Watching as the ironmonger unfurled her wares, Starkad's eyebrows nearly crawled their way into his hairline. Clicking his tongue idly, the Nord palmed the nearest sword. It was a wickedly curved piece from Hammerfell. By the looks of it, best used on horseback. Starkad have the sword a few experimental swings, his ears drinking the sweet blade-song. Grunting, Starkad set the shamshir back in it's leather thong. His eye, however, twinkled as it glanced over the messer.

"Ah, a wicked little thing, these can be," said Starkad as he hefted the thick-spined sword. "I once saw a man cleave a shield to the boss in a single stroke with such a weapon." Starkad felt his hand wanting to fish for gold in his purse, to simply own another tool of slaying. A blade such as the one he held was exotic, surely, but it was not Long-Fang. Reason reared its ugly head and Starkad returned the sword to where he found it.

"Fine wares, to be sure, but perhaps nothing for me..." Starkad muttered, knuckling the bristling whiskers of his beard. Mara, however, might as well be gazing upon the hoard of some great king. In her few years of life, she has seen no shortage of warrior's weapons, but none beyond the make of Imperial or Skyrim metallurgy. But now she stood with eyes wide, twinkling at the sight of a pristine glass dagger. As the woman named Amber took a knee beside Mara, the girl started softly, shuffling a few steps back. She looked up to her father, who simply nodded with a small smile,

"Mara. My name is Mara, miss..." said Mara, muffled by her scarf and hood. The girl bowed, an awkward and unpracticed gesture, but that made it no less endearing. She waited, silent and somewhat impatient for the introductions to be made, even her father giving him name. Once she found an opening in conversation, Mara tugged on her father's coat,

"Da! Da! Can I get the little glass one? It's so pretty!" Her voice raised to a mewling squeak in all her excitement. Quirking a brow at her, Starkad chuckled.

"You'll need to learn to use it and maintain it properly," said Starkad, though he hardly had enough time to finish.

"That's what I have you for, Da." Starkad could tell by the little crinkling around her eyes that she was smiling.

"Fine. Woe to the man who denies a princess what she wants, no matter how small her castle. How much for the glass dagger, my friends?" Starkad to each of the merchants, though he felt the presence of another saddle up beside him, a low whistle as they examined the ironmonger's wears. Starkad turned so he could measure the other patron with his good eye,

"Hush now," the Nord chuckled, "else they steep their prices and disappoint the little one. I'm the one who has to deal with her, after all."

[Fox Xalian]

Adra looked at the two new comers, one seemed to be a Nord man, not that rare in their homeland, but with a strange complexion and air about him. The other was an elf woman who had a strange way of talking. She was about to deal with the latter when the question came up about the price. She quickly grabbed the book and checked. "It says here....10 gold coins" she said, not looking up from the book, instead closing it and going to deal with the elf first. "We can buy those off you, yes, and then you can go buy food with the money we give you" she said, running her fingers along the pelts. I would think maybe...5 gold for each pelt" she said, moving to the chest to grab a small pouch of gold coins. Lucine walked around to talk with the man admiring the shamshirs. "Yes, they are quite impressive, they are designed after the weapons of the Ash'aba, or at least the more elite outriders of their tribe" she said.

Amber grabbed the closest sword, a rapier and handed it to Mara. "A much finer blade then a dagger would be more useful I think" she said, also grabbing the glass dagger. "My sisters wouldn't be happy with me if I didn't hand over what was actually asked for as well" she said. The blade of the rapier was blue, almost like ice, it had a silver plated hilt and a guard that would almost fully surround the wielder's hand, and had a traditional Breton pattern on it. The blade, though, seemed a bit wider then most, showing some intention for it to be used in an actual fight, not just in a duel. Without looking up Lucine piped up. "That rapier is coming out of your funds, dear sister" she said. "Yeah yeah, I know" Amber said, smirking. "Now is there anything else we can get you?" she asked, looking at Starkad.

[Rayne7]

Wraith looked up at the one-eyed warrior, for that was most certainly what he was. The scars, the eye, his stance and the way the man measured the assassin spoke volumes about the man. And the moment he picked up the Messer sword and gave it a few practice swings, he confirmed the thought. Most likely a former Stormcloak, Wraith thought, remembering the scene with Galmar. If he'd fought for the Imperials, they'd have slew him then and there.

Grinning, he nodded in acknowledgement. "Name's Raven. Sorry for intruding on your deal, just wanted to look at the wares. I see you've some experience with a few of them."

Picking up a couple of their backswords, he looked down each blade and grunted. They were fine blades, with silver-coated guards and rubies in the pommels. They were obviously a pair, weighted properly and made for fighting in spite of the decor. Considering his deal with Elisif and the plans for the future, he figured it might not be a bad idea to get some weapons that were less like the ones he carried as an assassin.

Deciding to wait until the other Nord finished his appearance, he looked to the other newcomer that had approached during his analysis of the backswords and noted the unusual pelts. "Some strange coloration on those hides. Don't know where you got them from, but even with the additional gold they'll bring in, you won't get much in the way of food, drink, and room. If you're any good with that bow, though, you could probably offer to work with them." he said in Dunmeris, hoping it was similar enough to the other elven languages for her to understand. Even so, he knew of no elven race that wore armor like that, and though both had fair skin, hers was more pale than any he'd seen. He shrugged, figuring she was likely a particularly pale Altmer. "You'll also probably want a cloak. That armor won't protect you much from the elements."

[lain]

Aura sighed, not hearing the numbers that she wanted to hear. But, it would have to do. "Yes, take." She took what little she offered for the pelts. She then turned her attention to the man that spoke to her in a strange tongue. Looking at him oddly for a moment, a smile tugged at her lips. Then she stifled a laugh. Her face continued to feel ticklish until she let out an audible laugh.

"Wr--wrong!" She broke, covering her mouth and then her face in embarrassment while she chuckled continually. After a few seconds, she regained composure with a sigh and wiped a small tear from her eye. She wasn't sure why it struck her so hilarious. Perhaps just the stress of her situation got to her. Nevertheless, she felt glad to laugh.

"Thank you. Very funny man." She said, beginning to think Skyrim wasn't so scary after all. The people were being kind to each other and even a little girl was out in this supposedly terrible environment. An odd looking little girl. Not quite Nord. She couldn't help but stare curiously at the little girl and then the one eyed man.

After a moment of watching the two interacting with one of the other ladies in the caravan, she looked at the small septims in her hand. There was no way she could do much with this.

"Sell armor." She started to take her paladin armor off, first lowering the hood from her head, feeling a little safer now in this company.

Clank. Clunk. Crunch. The armor fell off piece by piece in the snow, revealing her underclothes. They were long sleeved and covered her well enough, but it did reveal some of her feminine shape. The cold seemed to not bother her one bit. Even when the wind gusted and blew all of her silvery white hair out of her face.

"How much? Will trade for... um..." What was that word? She couldn't remember, "Like hood? But... long? And more septim." She turned back to the lady at the head of the caravan, "Deal, yes?" She caught her breath from fooling with the heavy armor. She felt light as a feather now.

[StormWolf]

The moment Adra read off the price from her ledger, Starkad was counting out ten septims from purse to palm. Each minted gold piece made a notable change of weight, the leather sack at Starkad's belt feeling suddenly barren.

"Bah, think nothing of it," said Starkad to the Dunmer, not quite meeting his eyes, "Name's Starkad, friend," he smiled thinly, and out of only one corner of his mouth, "Aye, I was familiar with steel long before I was with woman-folk." By the time he had the money in hand, what the ironmonger did nearly knocked the air from the Nord. A rapier and dagger for only the price of the latter? If only out of instinct, Starkad's thumb caressed the cheek of his axe. As a shrewd merchant, Starkad was cautious of a merchant who was too generous. Perhaps too much of the world had gotten into Starkad, but he was alive. Not quite in one piece, but Mara was whole and healthy. Starkad's expression must have been something worth laughing at, surprise all twisted up by the scars. Mara giggled at least.

"A fine gift, to be sure," Starkad muttered, taking the rapier in hand. The sword looked almost comically thin in his hands, his thick fingers holding the fine grip as a high elf might hold their wine. He studied the blade critically; gauging the straightness of the blade, the bevel of the edge, the icy color like his daughter's eyes. Starkad's mouth twitched in the shadow of a smile again. Satisfied that he wasn't being sold something accursed or charmed, he slipped the silver-hilted rapier into its matching sheath and carefully presented it to Mara, who was all but shaking in excitement. She reached to snatch the sword, but Starkad held it just out of reach.

"This is no toy, little flower. Understand? Only swing in practice or, Ysmir forbid, defense of your life." Starkad's face fell grim, his eye sharper than Mara's new treasure. The girl nodded with due sobriety, then squeaked joyfully once the rapier was in her hand. Turning to Amber, Starkad passed Amber the handful of septims,

"My good woman, I do believe you made a friend for life," he chuckled, nodding to Mara as she fumbled with the rapier and matching dagger at her belt. "You must permit me to repay your kindness." Starkad said, dipping his head. He was unsure if it was a smoldering ember of honor, or simply because he loathed being indebted to others. Still, balance was needed. "A Nord's honor commands it."