327 My SI Stash #27 - The Red Skies of Tamriel by Charles Garett Abbott (Skyrim)

-Another SI in Skyrim that don't waste time bullshitting, it's pretty much a speedrun~

Synopsis: Nirn is unmappable, and its denizens shall never know peace.

Rated: ???

Words: 23K

Posted on: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/the-red-skies-of-tamriel-skyrim-si.860119/ (Charles Garett Abbott)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

"Hey, you, you're finally awake."

Ralof looked at the young man across from him. Blues eyes blinking open as they glanced feverishly back and forth across the cart.

'Guess he is a Nord then.' Ralof sighed, fidgeting in the binders on his arms. 'one more kinsman for the chopping block.'

The man, or maybe he was a boy, he was beardless at least, though on the other hand he was about the same height as Jarl Ulfric, looked confused. Glancing back and forth in the cart with a look of surprise as his mouth hung open slightly.

"You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

"Damn you-" the thief to his left started to curse, but the newly awakened man shook his head.

"No I… this is wrong." The man grumbled. "This, you're… hell."

"They get you in the head or something? I'd suggest some mead but I doubt they'll let us have any." Ralof chuckled at his own joke, earning a glare from the man, who sat upright in his seat, glancing back and forth.

"This isn't actually…" the man fidgeted in his bonds. "Shit, well then. Good to meet you all. Lokir, my condolences."

"Huh?" The thief beside him looked confused. "what do you mean? And how do you know my name?"

"Actually, I suppose it's not entirely possible for you to survive. Just don't run until the dragon shows up." The man turned to face Ralof "that goes for all of us I suppose, though I can't imagine it matters for either of you two."

"I think you've taken a blow too many to the head kinsman." Ralof sighed, leave it to him to the empire to stick the Jarl and him in the cart with the crazy one. "There hasn't been a dragon since… I don't even know how long."

"Eh, Akatosh manifested as one in the Oblivion crisis." The man shrugged. "And I'm quite sure that we'll see another in a few minutes."

"I don't think…" Ralof started but then noticed that Jarl Ulfric was looking sharply at the insane man.

"Shut up back there." The carriage driver cracked his reigns.

Ralof sighed, and the carts denizens fell into an uneasy silence.

The madman was if course, the first to speak. "Hmm, bigger than it was…"

Ralof looked down the road, following his gaze to find a large work of stone and wood covering the road. He recognized the sight at once as Helgen. The fortress town east of Falkreath.

"Aye, Helgen, I used to be sweet on a girl from there. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with Juniper Berries?"

The man glanced at him, then back to the town. "It is a sight, though I fear that for many this will be its last day."

"Aye." Ralof nodded, the man was making some sense at last. "Sovngarde awaits."

"And there's Tullius." The madman nodded, got blood shooting up Ralof's spine at the mention of the man as he turned to eye the military governor. "And Elenwen, the Thalmor ambassador with him. I imagine she's here to delay the execution."

Ralof rounded on the man at once, barely glancing at the yellow-skinned daedra. "Why would the damn Thalmor want to delay the execution?"

"Every drop of bloodshed in Skyrim works to her advantage." The Nord shrugged, and at once Ralof could tell he was not a Stormcloak, nor even sympathetic, for he glanced at Ulfric when he spoke, accusation plain in his eyes.

"Watch what you say." Ralof felt himself almost growl. "That's the true king of Skyrim that you're glaring at."

"True king or not, the war's end is not in the Thalmor's interest. Nor in the Dragon's."

Ralof glared at the madman, then shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway. From the look she's giving Tullius, I doubt her scheme was successful, whatever it was."

"Of course not, the man's not a fool." The madman said. "It doesn't matter though, the Dragon will be interrupting the execution."

"Dragons this and dragon that, what are you some kind of cultist." The thief beside him groaned angrily at the man. "They're going to kill us and all you talk about are some old stories."

"The whole world is just an old story. I've already been here too many times to be scared."

Ralof raised an eyebrow at the man's words as the cart rolled to a stop against one of the walls. Across the courtyard was the headsman's block. The heavyset executioner standing at the ready.

"Line up now, one at a time."

Ralof knew that voice… "Hadvar, you dog." He nearly snarled as he stepped off the cart. "Do you're the one condemning me to death eh?"

The man stared him dead in the eye, holding a list in front of him. His uniform was that of an officer, and it seemed his once friend had risen swiftly in the legion. "Ralof of Riverwood." The man sighed. "You know I wouldn't do this if you hadn't become a traitor Ralof." The man laid a mark on his paper. "I'd rather be sharing a drink at the sleeping giant. You know that."

"Cold comfort, Hadvar." Ralof nearly sneered, but a shout to hurry it up saw him shoved away into a crowd of prisoners standing about waiting to die.

He turned at the noise of a scuffle behind him and saw that the madman had tackled Lohkir, even with his hands tied behind him. "You'll die if you run. Idiot." The man shouted at him, working his way back into his feet as the imperials watched on with odd gazes. "They have archers right there."

"Let me go! They're not, you're not gonna kill me!"

Ralof turned his head. The thief had no dignity in his death, unsurprising. Though the madman might have at least helped the man delay it for a few more moments at least.

They dragged the thief over at spearpoint, and the madman followed a minute later. Followed by that bitch of a captain and a rather guilty looking Hadvar.

He could muster that up for some dragon obsessed moron, but not for the man he grew up with?

Tullius shouted some imperial horseshit at Ulfric for a minute, and then the priest raised her hands up to give last rights when a roar that agent a shiver up his spine fell over the valley.

While the Imperials dismissed it. The sound left a rock in Ralof's stomach, and he glanced back and forth frantically until his gaze fell upon the madman, who was staring up towards the sky.

'Impossible…' But despite his thoughts, Ralof found his own gaze drifting skywards. He sighed in relief as he found nothing wrong. Content once again that the man was a madman and nothing more.

Lohk stopped the priestess from giving their last rights and lost his head for the effort. Fearless in death as he was in life, the man marched to the chopping block with a smile on his face and a quip on his lips. Ralof uttered a small prayer to Shor as the ax came down.

Then they called the madman, and another roar split the sky.

This time though, it came with the beating of wings, and Ralof felt the boulder return to his stomach twice as heavy when he spotted that great black shape spreading out across the sky.

The Imperials were shouting, but he could barely hear them as the Dragon approached, each beat of its wings was like thunder in his mind. Its eyes were red as blood and fiercely calculating. Covered in Dark scales like shields and Spikes like swords, it must have been three times the size of a Mammoth as it crashed down with an earthshaking slam atop the tower before them.

Evil eyes the size of a man's fist stared down at the crowd from above as if they were all no more than ants, and Ralof felt true, real terror. Far more than he had from the headsman's ax.

Then it spoke and the sky shattered.

Ralof couldn't hear, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. The world itself seemed to tear apart as firey stones rained from the heavens as if an army had laid siege to Helgen with a hundred catapults.

"Get moving you morons."

Ralof felt a shoulder knock his back, and he stumbled but caught himself before he could fall.

Turning, he saw the mad- well, maybe less mad man, that and the thief, who was already running for cover.

"Come on, you wanna live don't you?"

Ralof nodded numbly, following behind the man as they, along with most of the prisoners, rushed into the nearest stone tower to escape the deadly rain of fire.

He was rewarded for his escape by a pat on the back.

"Ralof, good, damn good, you made it." Jarl Ulfric patted him on the back, and Ralof felt relief that the king had made it through.

"What is that thing? Could the legends be true."

"Legends don't burn down the villages." The Jarl's gaze moved to the madman, or perhaps seer. "Perhaps our friend knows more."

"Not a good time for it I'm afraid, but yes, I do know a great deal." The man nodded. "Would you mind getting my binds off? I think I'll need my hands to get out of here alive."

"Of course." Ralof nodded, pulling the knotted ropes off of the man's wrists.

"Thank you."

As he moved to do the same to the thief he looked back and forth. "We can't stay in this tower, not unless we-"

Before he could finish the sound of shattering stone and roaring fire echoed out from the floor above them.

"Well, unless we want that to happen to us." He shrugged. "Lokir, follow me if you want to live." The man turned to Jarl Ulfric, giving a short bow. "I presume his majesty can make his own way out, should he so choose."

"Don't mock me, seer." The Jarl spoke dangerously, though neither had a weapon.

Ralof was about to follow after the two as they moved up the stairs when he felt a hand come down on his shoulder.

"Ralof, I need to talk to you for a moment." The king said gravely. "This town was a prison center. And someone must go to free our brothers and sisters in the keep."

Ralof felt his eyes widen, but he nodded quickly. "It will be done, my king."

Chapter 2

'Talos…'

It was…

Everything was on fire.

Smoke choked his lungs as he tried to get up onto his feet, staggering in the haze of explosions and death. Burning human flesh assaulted his nostrils, and the sounds of explosions and splintering wood filled in whatever was left beyond the ringing in his ears.

Helgen was ablaze.

He could see the inn was on fire, other buildings were collapsed, some entirely, and the choking smoke and soot were everywhere. Above it all there was that great black monster, belching fire and ruin down over the world.

He tried to go for the waterskin at his hip but found it missing.

'this day just keeps on getting better and better doesn't it?'

Sighing, he pushed through the rubble by the inn. There had to be someone there right?

Palpable relief found its way into him as he saw that indeed, the ones in the inn had made it out alive, only…

Vilod lay there in the middle of the street, clutching his leg. Hadvar made to move towards him, but a hand came down on his shoulder. "Get behind the wall." It dragged him down, and before he could demand an answer he heard the great landing of the dragon and felt the heat of its breath bathing the wall behind him.

It seemed to last forever, the wall bathed in fiery wrath. He turned to his side to see one of the townsmen there, clutching Vilod's son to his chest.

The boy had survived at least.

At his own shoulder, he found a familiar pair of men. The Prisoners, Lokir of Rorikstead, and… the other one. The one that hadn't been on the list. That one had been the one to pull him back. He must have seen the dragon coming.

As the fire at last subsided, he peeked over the barrier and at once felt like throwing up.

What was left of the innkeeper was little more than a charred skeleton, the molten flesh still bubbling around it. The smell hit him in the next moment, even as the prisoner tugged at him to move.

"Get your head on straight Hadvar." The man commanded, and whatever it was in his voice, it worked.

'Right, I'm a legionary, In better than this." The encounter with Ralof had shaken him, but it still wasn't his way to cower. He moved to his feet. "Take care of the boy." He ordered the townsman. "I need to regroup with general Tullius."

"God's bless you Hadvar."

He felt a pang of guilt that he didn't even know the man's name. He had been in Helgen for a while, but still…

No, now wasn't the time to think about that. Now was the time to keep moving.

The nameless prisoner seemed to know what he was doing at least. Immediately making for the alley along the wall, which ought to provide then at least a bit of shelter. The horse thief just looked panicked in comparison. Still, he seemed convinced that the other was right, and the three of them made good time through the alley towards the square at the front of the town.

Then it came again.

A sudden fear, a shadow passing over them.

Hadvar mustered all his conviction and barked out a hasty order.

"Against the wall NOW."

He threw himself into the stone, just in time too as the dragon crashed down ahead of them atop it, and swiftly delivered another roaring blast of flame into some poor unfortunate soul around the corner.

As before, the breath lasted far too long, as Hadvar sat there against the wall, hoping to the gods that it hadn't seen them. He could feel the heat, hear the screams until they were silenced.

He made a point not to look at the body as they all went around the corner once the dragon left. The smell alone was bad enough in the right confines.

One last trip through a half-collapsed shack and they were out. The square opened up, and he felt his spirits lift as he saw more legionaries, rallying together a defense of archers and mages.

"Where's the general?" He asked the nearest private. The woman nodded towards the gate, and after a moment he spotted the man. Tullius was in the middle of a cluster of people, ordering them about.

The General spotted him almost immediately as he approached, and gestured towards the northern side of town. "Hadvar? Get to the Keep, soldier, we're leaving."

For a moment he was confused, then he recalled the tunnels beneath the building.

He gave a short salute though he doubted the general saw it and glanced behind him at the two prisoners. The nameless one was looking at him sharply, while the horse thief stared at him incredulously.

"We're going with you either way." The Nord said plainly, and Hadvar nodded to him.

The three of them dashed into the gate of the fortified section once again, racing towards the keep, when Hadvar saw the face that he least wanted to see. Also dashing towards their destination.

"Ralof you damn traitor!" He shouted, feeling bile rise in his gut. "Out of my way."

"We're leaving Hadvar, you can't stop us this time!"

Suddenly he felt someone grab his wrist. "Morons the both of you!"

It was the prisoner, and he pulled his hand free from the man's grip even as he turned on Ralof.

"That's a fucking Dragon up there, and you think we have time to bicker? Kill each other later, but for now, we must move as one or perish." The man turned back at Hadvar and his gaze seemed to ask if he had made his point clear.

In truth, he had. Hadvar felt like an idiot now for even picking the fight with Ralof. There was so much death now, what did that even matter.

"Right." He nodded. "Follow me."

He glanced back slightly to see Ralof and the prisoner argue slightly more before the prisoner somehow convinced the Stormcloak to come with them.

Still, he didn't come happily, and Hadvar could feel his old friend's gaze burning a hole in the back of his head.

Blessedly, the barracks were still intact when the four of them got inside. It seemed that the dragon hadn't yet turned his gaze towards this part of the fortress.

The Prisoner shut the door behind them with a heavy thud, and the shouting faded, though the smell of burnt flesh still clung to all of them like a burial shawl.

For a moment, they all stood there, glancing at each other, as if hoping that someone at least had a plan. Though it wasn't long before the Horse Thief Lokir collapsed to his knees. "Thank the gods."

The other prisoner quickly rained on his parade, however.

"We're not out of the fire just yet." The man said, glancing back and forth around the room. "Hadvar, they keep the armor in these chests right. We're not going to be much use wearing rags."

"Yes." He nodded, "there should be some in the chests by the beds."

"Right then." The man nodded, moving over and pulling out a couple of the standard Legionary jerkins. He threw one across the room to Lokir as he started to undress. "I expect we won't be the only folks down here. I'd much rather talk our way out past the humans, but I believe there will also be frostbite spiders and a bear down below, so we're going to end up fighting regardless."

Hadvar stepped back for a moment, taking another look at the odd man, who seemed to be struggling a bit with the leather ties on his armor. Not that he could blame him. It had taken Hadvar months to get comfortable with all the fiddly bits. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I've already been here many times before." The man answered, shrugging. "Do stay behind me as we descend, parts of the building will collapse."

"What does that-"

"He's a seer, Hadvar." Ralof cut in. "He knew the dragon was coming before it arrived."

"I suppose that's as good a word for it as any." The man nodded. "I have… esoteric, knowledge. Though I would not call it foresight precisely."

"You knew the Dragon was coming?" Hadvar felt anger rise up in his veins, Vilod, all those people, the screaming. His voice turned harsh. "Why didn't you tell anyone?!"

The man looked at him as if he had grown another head.

"Would you have believed me? Ralof didn't."

The question struck Hadvar dumb. Of course, he wouldn't have believed him. His anger fell away at once to be replaced with a sour melancholy. "No, no, I suppose you're right." Hadvar sighed, turning from the group, best to move on to more pressing matters. "If there's fighting then you all will need to be armed. There should be some swords back here."

"I'll take one." The seer said, nodding slightly, "though I'll hope not to use it."

Hadvar watched as the man held his hand up and let out a small puff of flames that dissipated in the air.

He was a mage too.

Lovely.

As the weapons were passed out, and they prepared to move on, Ralof spoke again, asking the question Hadvar had been too disoriented to ask.

"What's your name, Seer? I'll have the name of the one who fights with me."

For once, the mage seemed to be caught flat-footed, pausing in his step as the gate opened ahead of them.

Hadvar watched his figures as he seemed to consider the answer for a moment before they finally solidified.

"You can call me Charlemagne."

Chapter 3

Keeping a poker face up was an important skill, especially in stressful situations.

Normally, I was quite bad at it. But this whole thing, well, none of it was normal, and as far as I could tell I was doing a good job of not showing my confusion to the group of Nords I had managed to scrape together.

What's that, you expected terror? So did I, but despite the horrors I had witnessed in the last few minutes, and the monstrosity that was Alduin roaring overhead, the terror never came.

It was odd, I half wondered if I had gone into shock somehow. I thought that I ought to be vomiting in a corner by now. But even as I walked through the charred ruins and over burnt corpses, it was as if none of it even touched me. Not that I appreciated the smell mind, it was just that I… Well, I expected to feel more than confusion.

Still, the question of how and why I got here sat heavier in my head than any of the brutal deaths that men and women had suffered right before my eyes. And even as we finally got into the stupid armory, it was all I could think about.

What kind of power had plucked me up like that? Had it been God, Satan? Was I in a coma? I couldn't remember suffering any sort of injury that could put me in one.

Perhaps one of the powers native to this world had snatched me up? If so then it was a hell of a joke. Perhaps it was Sheogorath, or maybe Sanguine. Though in all honesty, I doubted that either had the power to reach into a space that was presumably beyond the Godhead and drag me to Mundus.

I shook myself from my thoughts as we approached the central chamber of the keep. I raised a hand. "Stormcloaks, Ralof, you should go first, we should talk this out. No need to send any more bloodshed among Nords, not this day."

The man nodded, moving past me and pulling a crank to open up the central area. The two went to arms at once, but thankfully relaxed when they saw him.

I had to give the man credit, he talked them over to our side fairly quickly, and the two introduced themselves as Haelga and Thror. They were uncomfortable with Hadvar, for obvious reasons, but they eased up on me and Lokir once it was explained that we had only just now put on the armor, and weren't legionaries at all. I decided it was still probably best to reinforce the fact that we would move as a group.

"Look, once we're out of here, you can all part ways fair as you like. I don't care if you want to murder each other on the battlefield, but here and now we're all Nords, and that Dragon won't spare a single one of us from his claws or his breath."

"Not True Nords…" the woman, Haelga, commented though after a moment she nodded. "Still, I see your point. We can wait until the dragon is gone." She turned to Ralof. "We'll follow your lead."

"Aye, you have my ax." her dour companion nodded, bowing slightly towards Ralof.

"Thank you, kinsmen. I only hope that the imperials below will be as honorable as you."

Our group now expanded to six, we continued down to the floor below, and I had to grab Haelga's shoulder to keep her from walking into the collapsing section of the tunnel, dragging her back.

She looked like she was going to shout at me until the roof came down a few feet in front of us.

"... How did you know that was going to happen."

"I'm a seer, I've seen this all before," I explained curtly. "We can cut around through the storerooms."

While she turned to Ralof for wisdom, I peeked through the storeroom door. It was legionaries this time. It seemed that bringing both Hadvar and Ralof had resulted in a mixed distribution. They weren't paying attention to the door at least.

"Your turn Hadvar." I whispered to the man.

The Imperials were distinctly less happy to be traveling with Stormcloaks, though thankfully, they were actually part of an organized military, and Hadvar was able to simply pull rank to bring the two into line. Laius and Sibir joined our group, the two men falling in behind Hadvar and glaring at the rest of us.

I was glad for it honestly. Having a balance of parties would probably maintain our fragile little alliance as we moved forward.

We managed to dig a few healing potions out of the storeroom, and our larger group passed on down towards the torture chamber.

Again, I found myself surprised at my own lack of reaction to the gore-soaked floor, for it was clear there had been a fight down here. More than a dozen corpses lay scattered around, including the torturer and his assistant, who seemed to have been killed in a last desperate struggle at the door to the cagelike structure at the back of the room.

"Gods, what a bloodbath." Lokir looked a bit squeamish.

"None of these men needed to die." I gestured to the corpses and the blood pooling on the slick cobblestone floor. "War or no, there are bigger things at play here today. I only wish we could have arrived here sooner."

"What do you mean bigger things." the bald legionnaire, Laius asked."That dragon came in and saved Ulfric and-"

"Ulfric didn't summon that dragon." Ralof cut him off. "Though it did save us. He wouldn't burn a town and slaughter it's people just for the sake of-"

"Let's stop there," Hadvar said sharply. "We all hate each other, fine, but we're not out of these blasted tunnels yet."

"Exactly." I nodded, offering a pack of lockpicks to Lokir. "Think you can get that cage with the Wizard in it open?"

"Er yeah, I can probably do that." the man nodded.

"Good, his robes are probably enchanted."

"Ah, right."

While Lokir worked, the rest of us gathered bows and arrows from the dead and gathered them into two piles against the sides of the room. I left their fellows to say last rights over them before we moved on. I hoped that they made it to Sovngarde before Alduin devoured their souls.

I changed quickly into the robes, finding them a tight but adequate fit, I could feel my energy surge as I put them on. I resisted the urge to shoot fire from my hands.

The discovery that I held that power, that real, actual, magic, was a light in this otherwise grim situation.

That done, we passed down into the cells, following a trail of blood that must have been left by the last survivors of the scuffle in the torture chamber. The cells were dingy and damp, and as with the city above there were more of them than there had been in the game, but we soon reached the large chamber where all of the streams ran through.

We also found the corpse at the end of the trail of blood, a Stormcloak woman whose intestines were splayed out on the ground beside her. She must have limped this whole way holding them in, only to die here.

Ralof moved up, pressing her eyes closed with his hand. "You can rest now sister… if only we had been quicker to your side."

While the Stormcloaks said a short prayer over her, I crossed the room, pointing out the large flammable patch of oil on the floor. I waited until the whole group was there before I pulled the lever to lower the rear drawbridge. "Everyone else crosses before me," I ordered. "The ceiling will fall behind me."

They looked at me for a moment, then Hadvar nodded, crossing with the legionaries, and the Stormcloaks moved quickly behind him. I went with Lokir last, and sure enough not a moment passed after I had crossed the bridge before a shower of stone rained down, smashing it apart and closing the hallway behind us.

I got sharp looks of surprise and a bit of fear from all of them after that, save Ralof, who seemed thankfully resigned to my foresight.

"Next is frostbite spiders. Don't let them bite you. If we can fire down into the room we can probably force them into a chokepoint in the hallways." I glanced over the group. "On the other hand, there's enough of us that we can probably just take them head-on. There's normally only four, though I suppose there might be more that I don't normally see. Some will be in the ceiling."

"Right." Ralof nodded sharply. "You heard the man, get your bows out, we'll lure them into the halls."

It wasn't long at all before we found their den and with a few well-placed arrows courtesy of the trained soldiers in the party, we managed to lure the largest ones out.

Unlike the game though, there were a lot of smaller ones, ranging from the size of Tarantulas to scuttling monsters as big as Chihuahuas, all accompanying the man-sized freaks that were most dangerous. If I wasn't already quite hardened against them, it'd probably give me arachnophobia.

On the other hand, most arachnophobes couldn't shoot flamethrowers from their hands.

We left a thoroughly scorched cave of smoldering spiderwebs behind us as we finally departed the vile den, though one of the legionaries managed to harvest their venom, which was good.

"The last thing between us and the exit is a cave bear," I said quickly. "Dangerous, but we have enough arrows here I don't think it'll give us trouble, at least if we engage at range.

The thing looked like a rock in the half-light of the cave, big as it was sleeping surrounded by the bones of elk and the like. Honestly, the bones were kind of surprising, and I had to wonder if Skyrim's bears were more aggressive hunters than the ones in my old world. It didn't matter to us that much though, as while our first volley of arrows saw it roaring to its feet, the second volley dug deep. By the fourth, it was starting to resemble a porcupine, and it hadn't managed to get over to us.

"Good shooting." I commended the men, before gesturing to the stream that ran out of the tunnel. "Now if you would like to leave this keep, I believe we now have a clear path to the exit."

That at least got a good reaction, and our little eight-man band of angry soldiers finally marched out of the depths of Helgen keep, and into the noonday sunlight. Before they could go for their arms and get back to killing each other though, the sky was again interrupted by those great black wings, flying overhead as the world eater made his departure, reminding everyone there if they needed it, or what exactly we had been running from.

Nobody moved, nobody even dared speak, until the monstrosity had left our sight over the throat of the world. Whatever will to battle between the two groups had been boiling before faded quickly under the fear of the dragon.

"I… I think that we can put aside our hostilities for a little while longer," Hadvar said, at last, looking over at Ralof. "To Riverwood? We can all restock there and return to the war once we've recovered."

"Hadvar you-, Fine, by Talos I have no more patience for this today."

"Thank the eight," Lokir grumbled from where he had firmly planted himself to my side. "I've had enough of fighting to last me a lifetime." The man turned to me, "You should come with me to Rorikstead once we reach Riverwood, we can stay with my parents for a while."

"Unfortunately Lokir, I can't take you up on that." I shook my head, "Nice as it sounds, I'm afraid that my own fight has only just started."