Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

{I know, but I guess I missed that part. Which is why I posted Nahvi saying don't go to the temple and take her to the jarl, in turn, making excesmyr thinking I'm going to dragonsearch}
 
"I had a feeling that it'd been done in battle," she said with a nod, gesturing towards his healing wound. She heard him say that he didn't care much for the war, but then he insulted the Stormcloaks by calling them 'swine'. Maybe he really did care. Or maybe it was something that he had just picked up from his comrades -- she would never know, because she didn't want to bother with asking. She was well aware that Whiterun had a strong Imperial foothold throughout the hold, but she really didn't think of it as a territory of the Legion. Out of curiosity, once, Anja had asked Balgruuf herself what his standing point on the war was. "The side of Whiterun," he had said, with the clank of Imperial coin in his robes.. it was no matter to Anja, though. She didn't care.

A mercenary, he said. A slight scowl crossed her features as the corners of her lips curled down into a small frown and her eyes narrowed themselves. Well... she began to think, then let her expression soften. In essence, she basically did sell her sword arm. The Companions would do jobs for coin. The others would refuse the jobs that offered a scant amount of coin, so she picked those up. Usually, those were the pest problems. A troll n a cave too close to town, or even sometimes creatures had wandered into homes. They were easy, and she was helping people, so that made the job even better. "I'm a Companion," she states rather proudly. She didn't quite notice it, but her slender frame erected itself, shoulders back and chest high as she made the statement. She was proud to be what she was.

When he spoke of the girl, her body relaxed itself and her eyes panned from his, down to Nahvikiin, who was still being healed. "Euh..." she brought a hand up to the back of her head and gave a slight shrug. "I was out hunting. I had shot a beautiful stag, and I was lugging it back here.." She wrinkled her nose a bit at the thought, remembering the weight of the beast, plus the weight of the girl that she had to carry. "She was being chased by bandits, so, I helped her kill 'em." She puffed out her cheeks a bit, then let out that breath of air with a subtle smirk as Anja's first kill played over in her mind. A brilliant strike to the gullet with an ebony arrow, that was. That bandit was down for the count in seconds. "Before I was able to kill the last one, he drew his bow and got her with an arrow," Her smirk faded, "It was laced with some poison, I think... I'm not too good with magic stuffs."
 
"I am headed to Whiterun," she paused, "Criston, is it? I am Selene. This is Goddess, and this is Schemer." She nodded to her horse, then her dog. The Bosmer hesitated, then turned and reached into her saddlebags. She had but a small loaf of bread, a portion of salted meat, and two bottles of mead. Her fingers closed around a bottle of mead and the loaf of bread. Swiftly, she tossed Criston the bottle of mead and tore the loaf in half, giving the slightly larger bit of it to him.
"You look like you need it." She murmured kindly. Schemer barked, sniffing the man all over, now sure that he was a friend. Goddess leaned in to the man's face. She huffed and withdrew, taking a regal stance. "Once you finish, hop on. Skyrim is immersed in perilous times. We need to stick together, whether we're Skyrim-born or not." Selene brushed her hair behind one ear and the pointed tip showed clearly. Her side on the subject of Skyrim's racism and current war was obvious.
 
"Right then. Well, there's drinking to be done. I don't loot Stormcloak corpses for nothing. I'll be at the Bannered Mare if you and your friend wish to join me. That's if she makes it through. Seems like you both could use a drink." Decimus said abruptly and walked away. He stopped by Warmaidens to purchase a steel shield and slung it on his back. This wound could have been avoided if only he had a shield. It was costly which irked him.

Money is no good to a dead man. He said to himself to justify the cost.

Decimus proceeded to the Bannered Mare and took a seat at an empty table. If his commander found out he was drinking on duty there would be hell to pay. But he believed that would not happen. Though the legion camp was not far from here. Decimus shrugged off the thought. There was no use fighting the Emperor's wars for money if he could not enjoy it once in a while.

"Ale!" He called out to the bartender. Decimus laid out a coin as they brought the mug to him. This was going to be a long night.
 
After the few rounds of mead his new host paid for, Dash had to excuse himself to his room for the rest of the day. He was exhausted and was in need of some rest. As he lied on his back staring up at the hay straw roof above he began thinking about the family he buried. Then his own dead family began protruding into his thoughts. Two families gone to deaths bosom in the land of Skyrim and no one cared he thought. Was he the going to be the keeper of the dead? He sent out this journey to avenge his families' murder but was caught in the lives of the people around him. It wouldn't be so simple but Dash had time.
He tried shaking off his thoughts and turned to his other side and placing the thin sheet over his naked chest. He could hear the mighty flame outside his rooms' door and voices of laughter and stories. He could hear the sounds of the bard playing a song he heard when he was a child and like a lullaby it whisked him away to the land of dreams.
When he awoke the following day he got dressed and walked out towards the tavern hall to see that it was empty except for the Inn keeper and two patrons. He checked his gear and made it to the door before someone spoke from behind.
"Good luck to you sir." Dash did not turn around to see who spoke these words; instead he opened the door and stepped outside into the cool night air. He would have to venture in the night to make it to his destination, Whiterun.
The night stars were out in full force as there was not a single cloud above. Dash made it to the edge of town where there stood a cement bridge above the violent river underneath. He knew the journey ahead was going to be long so he began thinking of his course of action when he made it to Whiterun. He knew that Whiterun would have a tavern where he would be able to learn more about his family's murderers, the forsworn. He would also be in need of gold and would try to find work when he got there. All this thought kept him from his long journey around the small mountain path that lead him down the plains.
Once he made his way around the small mountain he could see in the distance further ahead on the plain were little red lights from torches that covered the fortified town of Whiterun. It wasn't long till he made it to the main wooden gate that kept him from entering Whiterun as a guard in imperial armor blocked his path.
"Halt! State your business here stranger!?" The guard spoke and Dash could see that he had to play well because there were other guards with their eyes on him above in perched positions behind the wooden wall. He turned his attention back to the guard in front of him and answered.
"Just came for work."
"Is that all?!" The guard asked looking curiously at the new comer. Dash could feel that he was being pressured. He began to think if all imperial guards had this same attitude before stating again that he was there for work and would like to gain access already. The guard pushed him back before commanding.
"I don't want any trouble from you, you here? You better be no spy for the stormcloak." He said nothing more as Dash gave him a dirty look. The gate went up and Dash forgot all about the posted guard out front as he stepped inside the inner town.
 
Nahvikin woken many times during her state. Once while in the temple. The priestess, whom was skilled in healing magic, only healed the outer wounds, closing the hole the arrow tore into her skin. The second time was being carried to dragonsearch. All she saw was a cloak and a glimpse of Dark Brotherhood armor. Relief washed over her in her unconsciousness. Luckily, she chose not to wear her armor while on the contract. Finally, aftwer what seemed like hours, but in reality a couple of minutes, she was in dragon search. The Jarl had placed in a secluded room equiped with a alchemy lab and an enchanters table.

Once she was strong enough to speak, the poison still running through her veins, she spoke to the member. He looked new, possibly from another family. "I need blisterwart, amantis pods, some dragonfly wings, and nirnroot. Hurry..." she tried to finish her sentence, but the void of darkness swallowed her back into unconsciousness.
 
Issac rushed to go find the required reagents. He didn't have any of them on hand so he busted out of dragonsreach and rushed to the alchemy shop. Time was of the essence. He went inside the alchemy shop and payed the weighty price of the proper reagents. It was costly even after making some hasty negotiations. His coin purse was now very light.

After a while he came back into the keep, heading straight to the alchemy table. He placed down the reagents and tried to think of how to make the anti venom. He couldn't rely on the girl since she faded in and out of consciousness. Nevertheless he put mixed them all up hoping it would work.

After a bit of experimenting he had made a small potion that he believed to work. Sure enough, when he gave it to her she had awoken.

"Are you okay, sister? Why were you so careless. If I hadn't been there you could have blown your cover and the brotherhoods," He said in a quiet whisper.
 
Decimus had lost count of the mugs of ale he had consumed and was drunk now. When he first walked in the tavern was quiet and people kept to themselves But he had managed to rouse the patrons to celebration. There was no reason, Decimus just had a way with people.

He paid the bard a few coins to play an Imperial song. Decimus was no patriot of the Empire, but he certainly did enjoy the camaraderie between his fellow legionnaires. He also enjoyed drinking and singing. Things that he was good at.

"Down with Ulfric!
The Killer of Kings..."

Decimus, half empty mug in his hand, was singing along with the other patrons.
 
"Whiterun?" He asked. He smiled as she tossed him the mead and bread, "Oh.. well thank you, but you really don't have to spare your food like this.. I mean not unless.. you have a lot of it."
After a moment his hunger got the best of him and he started into the bread, "Mmm! This..." he paused embarrassingly and waited until he swallowed before continuing, "This is good. I'll have to make this up to you later, thanks."
He chuckled as the dog sniffed him, "And hello there, Schemer. Nice to meet you." He looked back up at Selene once her animals had finished checking him out and nodded, "So you'll.. take me to Whiterun? I'll owe you for that as well."
He stood, hopping off his rock and back onto his feet on the road. Nervously, he finished the mead and bread off before he cautiously climbed onto the back of her horse, "I promise I'll pay you back for your kindness."
 
"Right.." Anja mumbled as Decimus left. Anja had never been to the Bannered Mare -- not that she didn't want to, she just never needed to. The mead hall, Jorrvaskr, had been her home for a long, long time. Why go to an inn when you've already got warm bed and plenty of mead? There really was no point. She appreciated the offer, but declined. Her eyes fell back down, and she was once again able to hear the tinkling sound of the healing spell, which golden trail her eyes followed down to the unconscious girl. She then looked to the priestess, then nodded. "When she wakes, let her know that I went to Jorrvaskr, and that she should pop in if she wants to talk over a drink." The priestess nodded, then Anja exited the temple.

As she stepped outside, Anja took in a deep breath of the frigid Skyrim air. She could taste the honey on the wind, carried from Honningbrew Meadery. The air stung the insides of her lungs it was so cold, but this made her grin: Skyrim was her home, and she was proud to be a Nord. Something about the harsh and snowy terrain left her feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Not something a warrior like herself would normally say, or even think, but it was true. She was about to advance towards Jorrvaskr when she saw something. Someone. She didn't know. A black and red colouration that seemed out of place -- a figure that didn't belong. Her light cerulean eyes narrowed in an attempt to clearly, but it didn't help. She made herself believe that she had just been seeing things, but had a feeling that there really was something there. Little did she know, that figure would sneak inside of the temple and steal away the girl that she had just saved.

In quick strides, Anja made her way to Jorrvaskr. Her strut seemed determined -- with purpose. She had a kill that the guards had lugged for her, and a battle to boast about. She was always considered the 'pup' of the lot. This was something that bothered her, so she liked proving herself whenever she could. "That's amazing, pup," is what Skjor would say to her in the driest, most dull of ways after she'd tell him about the three wolves that she took on at once. Even Aela would do the same. Aela had taught her to hunt, so for Anja's first few kills, she'd make like some over-enthusiastic parent and act way too excited about it. It bothered Anja, but she knew that Aela was trying, so she understood. But she made a huge kill this time. And she couldn't wait to tell them about it. A grin spread on her full, soft pink lips as she pushed through the doors of the mead hall. "I'm ho--.." was all Anja managed to say before the sight of what lay before her froze her in her steps.

Aela, Skjor, Farkas, Vilkas, Ria, Athis, Njada, Torvar, Vignar... all of them were circled around a body that was sprawled out before the dining table. It felt like her heart stopped completely. After a shiver arched and rolled up her spine like some sort of awakening, she spoke: "No..." she whimpered as her bottom lip began to quiver, "No...!" She quickly stripped herself of her armour to her street clothes before dashing over to the dead body of Kodlak. As she fell to her knees at his side, she clutched onto his shoulders, then leaned down to sob into his chest. Kodlak was like a father to her. For all the cared, he was her father. He took her in when she was just a wee pup... taught her how to fight, how to wield a sword, and what it meant to be a Companion. She loved this man. Shudders and shivers racked small Anja's slender frame as she clutched onto the man, holding on as if she believe that squeezing him tighter would somehow bring him back.

The sobbing stopped. The others had left a long time ago, grieving in their own ways in different parts of Jorrvaskr. But, Anja had stayed by Kodlak's side, clutching onto him like what seemed for dear life. Her head was laid against his chest, and her eyes were closed. She was silent. The mead hall was silent. And not another sound was made that night within the walls of Jorrvaskr.
 
Selene let a smile spread across her face. "It's really no trouble at all. Besides, it's better to travel with a companion in the case of enemies, especially bandits. Hopefully, we'll reach Whiterun soon enough and you won't need to repay me." She looked up through the trees, searching past the sharp, black branches that seemed to claw at the sky. It was getting dark, stars showed faintly against the dusky sky. If they didn't reach Whiterun, or even a town or farm, soon, they would be much worse off. Night was when the wolves came out to play, and it would get far below freezing temperature.
Gently, the woman nudged Goddess's ribs. The mare tossed her thick mane as she moved into a quick trot, almost a canter. Her gait was smooth enough for comfort, but still a little rough. Schemer kept his nose to the road as they traveled. He acted as their tracker; he searched for scents and tracks from both animal and human. If the tracks or scent was fresh, he'd move away as a sign to steer clear, unless they were of game, like deer. If they were old, he'd disregard them.
"So, Criston, where are you from? Morrowind, I presume?" Selene asked, hoping to start a friendly conversation and end the silence, save for Goddess's hooves. Sometimes, talking warded off predators. Other times, it kept the spirits up, which she feared they'd need. Her outlook was desolate before she had happened upon Criston.
 
Somewhere In Skyrim......

​
In the wide grand open area of a meadow, Imperials and Stormcloaks face off in a civil war far from the great cities. In the distance the sound of marching soldiers, shrieking horses, and docking war vessels nearby collaborate to signify war. On one side were the Stormcloaks, a rebellion group of Nords who believe Skyrim belongs only to the Nord race and wish to see freedom from Imperial control. The other, the Imperials, a military group from the capital city Cyrodil sent to make peace a mandated part of Skyrim however they can. And in the center are other races, Elves, Orc, Khajiit, and Argonian alike. This is a war for them, but for the land they now live on. Fleet after fleet of Stormcloaks approached, armed wih swords, crossbws, axes; almost an entire armory. Some carried flags with the Stormcloak symbol imprinted on it. The Imperials carried the symbol of Skyrim, hiding behind trenches and picking up wounded to safety. While from a distance watched a silent, but strong warrior, judging as the tide of battle began to shift in the hands of the Stormclaoks.

Roan puzzled as he watched from the shadows of the battle, twirling his dragonbone war axe and gripping his dagger tight. The Cloaks began to advance on the Imperial Army as they grew less in numbers, it was time to strike now or never. The turn of this battle would decide whether the Cloaks would own the Rift as footing; a chance Imperials could not take. He dashed from his cover and kicked a tree, using the elevation to climb into the branches, running past a hawk as made way. Lunging and grappling from branch to branch to make his path. As the Hwk wondered behind the brush, Roan leaped from behind as if it was a shift of forms. Making his landing he shoved through two men and kept moving, "Hualt," shouted a man trying to calm a horse, but he continued. Another placed a hand on his shoulder to attempt a stop, he knocked his hand away, grabbed the horse and flet into the sounds of death a destruction.

Men scattered and ran past him as he headed in the opposite direction, showing no expression of fear or doubt as he galloped into the face of terror. A stormcloak raised his hand for the archers to line up, they pulled back and took aim, waiting for the order. They hoped the aim would make him stop, but her persisted, he stayed stern and approached. "Fire!" he shouted, follwed by the whistle of one hundred arrows and a shriek of his fallen horse. As he tumbled he played it into a roll and sprinted towards the front line of cloaks. Imperials turned and gazed, inspired slightly how he would persist as one man watching as it all grew into tension. They loaded again, "Fire!" he repeated, Roan took a chance and ducked behind a bolder. As they stopped to prepare their crossbows again, he came out faster and jumped towads them, his foot landed on the barrel of an enemy crossbow and he used it to run up his shoulder and over his line of archers. He rolled forward and was greeted with the downward swing from a battleaxe, before the man could bring it down Roan grabbed the hilt, twirled and stole his axe from him. As he came to face forward and hit an enemy across the skull and dashed forward, dropping the axe.

Another came at him with a crossbow armed with a bayonette; Roan stepped aside and lifted the barrell to smack him, then turned his weapon on him and stabbed him with the bayonette. Two came to stop him, one from behind the corpse infront of him behind and the other from the side. He drew back the crossbow from its user's corpse and shot the one coming from behind, then doged the other and slit his thraot with the bayonette. The crowd fired on him again, he grabbed the dea cloak and used him as a shield, then jumped into the fray. The Imperials went to there leader and handed him a scope as Roan tore through as many as possible.

He drew his dagger and axe, he used his axe in his right and dagger in his left hand, he swiped at the leg of a passing stormcloak andkicked his friend. He lifted a crossbow by hooking it with his axe, then follwed it up with a swipe across his throat with the dagger. Turning around he axed another to the neck, following the wind of his arm to block the sword of a cloak and slice across his belly. The Imperials became inspired and fought back, oening fire with bows, catapults, all they could give into. Roan twirled twice ot his right and sabbed another enemy in the throat as he stopped, then twisted back and decapitated him as he fell. Looking into the clearing he saw something that would leave his mark, a Stormcloak officer on his horse. Time slowed aroud in his mind as he watched him, as if the world became empty, it was just him and Roan. He ran from around the crowd, ran up the ramp of a catapult, and drew his nightingale bow in mid-air, taking aim and firing a direct arrow to the shoulder of the officer.

The momentum pushed him off his horse, Roan approached slowly with his axe in hand, the officer dragging himself away, unarmed and in a panic. Roan turned him over and got on one knee, he raised his axe to the sky and brought it back down on the officer's head. The battle was now left to be free-handed..
 
Criston held on as best he could to Goddess as she trotted along. He wasn't used to horses, especially the bigger Skyrim breeds. He figured they were bred for the colder weather and were more for traveling than racing which were the only types of horses he'd ever seen, the sleek, fast ones.
But this Goddess was a lovely horse and the dog, Schemer, was interesting too in his own way.
He was still nervous and bit wary of this stranger named Selene, but she seemed friendly enough. She'd given him food, drink, and a ride and now conversation even.

He smiled before answering, "Yes. I was born and raised in Morrowind of course, but I came here to Skyrim for a number of reasons. I hear there's a college.. up in Winterhold. From what I hear it's one of the best of its kind and I.. I feel I really...... have the need to go there."
He shrugged, "Or at least I believe I do. It's very urgent really and I fear no other place but the college can help me."
 
Selene nodded, knowing how he felt. One of the reasons she continued to Skyrim instead of staying in Valenwood, or even Cyrodiil, where it was much easier to survive in, was because she felt an uncontrollable urge. Something tugged at her, drawing her to the war-stricken place. It was a pang in her chest. She had always felt it, ever since she had first heard the news of Skyrim's civil war. Now that she was here... it had calmed, but she still felt it every once in a while. Her task was not simply to come to Skyrim; she had to do something. But what, she did not know.
"I was born in Valenwood. I came to Skyrim after hearing news of the war. I want to fight, I want to help free Skyrim. Valenwood is a very free place, despite being under Imperial control. We know our homeland, and we know how to elude the Empire. Great, ancient trees shelter us and nurture us, where the clumsy Men struggle to climb even the smallest tree. Skyrim is not like Valenwood. It is too flat, too barren. Yes, there are mountains, but they are not large, like the Jerall Mountains of Cyrodiil. Skyrim is a bad place to wage war in. However, the reasons for the Stormcloaks' desired secession is just and clear; they want freedom. I could never abandon my freedom, even for all the wealth in the world. I feel the pain of the people of Skyrim, and I want to end their pain by ending this war." Selene said quietly. She kept her eyes on the road, but she was still aware of everything. The biting wind at her cheeks made them red, but they turned darker after her statement. It was rare that she revealed herself so much at one time, and it felt odd, like she was making herself more vulnerable. "Many find it odd that I go against my own people in this war; it is known that Valenwood and Summerset Isle make up the Aldmeri Dominion. It was us that started this war by manipulating Men, but many of my people are against the Thalmor. They do not trust the other races, but my brethren view otherwise. There are allies in Tamriel. If only the Stormcloaks would seek them."
 
Nahvikin awoke with a pounding headache. As if she was hit by a giants club and then beat in the head repeatedly with a wasp's nest. "Do not patronize me brother. I am your holy matron. You will be rewarded for your deed, but do not take this as me thanking you." Nahvi looked up to the other guy. She didn't recognize him, so she knew he had to be from another sanctuary. "What section do you hail from bother?" she asked, slowly getting up. Luckily the priestess had healed the wound shut, or else she would be in a lot of pain.
 
The heat from the fires of the Skyforge beat harshly against Anja's tear-streaked cheeks. Only the higher parts of her cheeks were wet, as the heat dried her tears before they got down to her chin. Her expression was edged and her jaw was visibly strained as she gazed into the white hot coals. She couldn't bring herself to look up at the body of the man she considered to be her father. She couldn't see the man that she held so high in her heart and mind reduced to ashes... the others watched with dry faces. She couldn't understand why they seemed so indifferent about this... but Anja did know that different people had different ways of grieving.

Unlike last night, where everyone else had left before her, she was the first to leave the ceremony. She pulled off a gauntlet to wipe at her cheeks with her forearm, then slipped it back on with a shaky sigh. She walked down the stairs that led to the Skyforge, then headed off into the middle district of Whiterun. Her expression was hardened... sad, with a twist of anger. As she walked, she kept her hands held in tight fists. The metal of her gauntlets was digging deeply into the skin of her palm, pushing until the metal pushed through the flesh. She felt red hotness warming her palms, but this didn't stop her from pressing harder. As her lip began to quiver, she pressed it tightly between her teeth to hold it in place.

She just kept on walking, even beyond the gates of Whiterun. By the time she reached Honningbrew Meadery, she had relaxed quite a bit. Her breaths came smoother and slower, and her features had returned to normal. But she even continued on past there. She didn't know where she was going, but she was going somewhere. Her palms ached as the pain set in, but it was like nothing to her. The pain in her heart out-weighed the physical pain she felt.
 
"You better be grateful. I just saved your life and concealed your identity. You could've blown the cover off of your sanctuary. And if you must know I'm part of the cheydinhal sanctuary, or at least what's left of it. It could barely be called a sanctuary, let alone a family. I was sent here to sky rim to find a new sanctuary and to finish a contract. So what did you do to get yourself into this kind of trouble anyway?"
 
((OoC: Sorry, late reply. I was gone the whole weekend))

Criston was intrigued by her story for wanting to come up here to Skyrim. Where he came for his own selfish reasons, this Selene came to help fight a war. She came for the people it seemed. He could understand that and smiled a little as he heard. It was a good thing to want to help others after all, wasn't it?
"You seem very kind to say that," he told her, "Most wouldn't want to admit such a thing, especially to a Dunmer like I am. I've heard my kind is one of the more hated races here in Skyrim so it seems only natural that many of my race would join forces against the Nords."

He let out a slight chuckle followed by a shrug, "But I personally haven't much to say on the war. I um.. try my best to avoid talking of it so I won't get ridiculed you see. But you... you seem as though you have a good heart. I like that. It makes me feel better about traveling to Whiterun with you."
After a moment, he blushed a little, "Oh I'm sorry. If I said too much or offended or upset you in any way I apologize. I just get to talking you see and when I do I say a bit too much sometimes."
Attempting to change the subject quick, he smiled, "So Valenwood.. is it every bit as beautiful a place as I hear? I've never been there myself."
 
Selene smiled wider at his praise, but hid it quickly, facing forward. "You haven't offended me. Each person has their own opinions, and I can respect that." As he continued, she looked around quickly, scanning the area for danger and listening for the telltale howling of wolves, but found nothing.
Criston's question suddenly rang in her ears. "Valenwood? I believe it's the most beautiful place in the world, but I may be biased. It was hard to leave the beauty of the woods, but Skyrim has its own savage beauty, as well. Valenwood is a place of ancient, towering trees. In some places, entire cities were inside trees. I heard about Morrowind, where people could make a house out of a tree. The cities are like those, but much bigger. Our climate is usually warm and sunny, the rays of the sun filter down through the canopy of the trees and create beautiful effects. In rare places, there are clearings completely illuminated by a break in the canopy. Places like those are breathtaking. Many creatures share the forest with us; various deer and species of wolf or canine, as well as others. It is rumored that a herd of unicorns roams somewhere in Valenwood, but through all my adventuring as a child, I never found a trace of them. I used to leap from branch to branch, sometimes swinging on vines. My friends and I would play tag or hide and seek in the treetops all the time. On the edge of Valenwood there were some small mountains. Cliff Racers frequented the area. My friends and I would sneak close to their nests and jump onto their backs, then try to steer them. Most of the time, they couldn't support our weight very well and they crashed to the ground and tried to attack us." Selene realized she was grinning hugely as she relived her childhood. Her smile faded and tears sprang to her eyes. Do not cry. You will return one day, and you can be free once again. She scolded herself. "I actually met Schemer a few weeks before I left for Skyrim. A few wolves had cornered him and were about to kill him when I stepped in with my sword and fended them off. He bonded to me I guess, grateful that I saved him, and we've been companions ever since. I found Goddess after a checkpoint at the foot of the Jerall Mountains in Cyrodiil; her rider had disappeared, so I took her. I realize it wasn't honorable, but I was desperate and poor at that time. While traversing the Jeralls, I came cross a few trinkets and sold them when I reached Skyrim. Without my occasional spelunking, I surely would have perished by the time I reached Skyrim."
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back