Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20140426152128/@comment-24449631-20140426200655

(I'm going to write my pieces like 'Wind' does them: With no interaction. I found that writing these things does wonders for my English. But they'll probably will be few and far between)

Life in Riften
It had been some time since Rowan had returned with the samples for the alchemist of Riften. Must’ve been about… three weeks, actually.

Three weeks it had been ever since he had met those crazy people in the woods, down in the South-Jeralls.

And although they clearly seemed quite insane, Rowan couldn’t shake whatever it was that woman said…

Corruption, war looming…

''What if it was true? What then? Would Skyrim be able to defend itself? ''Rowan thought as he rolled around in his bed, unable to sleep.

Every once in a while he stopped and noticed how very quiet his room, the house, Riften really was. It made his breathing and moving around in his bed seem like extremely loud activities, and he didn’t want to wake anyone so he just stopped as he found a ‘sort of’ comfortable position.

He lay there with his arms behind his pillow and head and his chest bare. Listening to the nothingness of the night.

Not even a single insect buzzing around his room, just plain nothingness. It was too early for insects to be found in Skyrim. The only ones you’d find right now, in the early spring, were snow butterflies or horrid underground beings.

Rowan looked outside from the corner of his eye. His shutters was closed but you could see a thin stroke of light seeping through, revealing the colour of the night.

He sighed, as he had no way of telling the time.

A Khajiit though, would’ve easily told you. The lands of Elsewyr were always very warm in the day, so a lot of activities took place after sundown. The night is their day. They can perfectly read the moons and stars, so also… the time.

But Rowan had never been in Elsewyr before, nor had he been anywhere else but Skyrim and North Cyrodiil.

Nords have always been conquerors... Rowan thought to himself as he closed his eyes again.

He remembered the stories of old, when Nords had almost all of Northern Tamriel under their command. High Rock, most notably had a lot of Nord influence, which is evident even today. Though over the years, The Nords settled down in Skyrim, sticking to old norms and traditions. Wonderful traditions mind you… But there’s just no more… Exploring, no more adventure…

Thinking about tradition made Rowan smile.

<p class="MsoNormal">Imperials never really understood our culture. They think of it as brutish and violent, while in fact it is so much more than that.

<p class="MsoNormal">It made him think of an old song, which he didn’t hesitate to sing in his mind. A song accompanied with drums, flutes and lutes… Where the spirits from our Ancestors danced in the giant flames in the middle of the Inn. The music that was played after the ‘loud phase’ of a Nord’s drinking night. When everyone was half a sleep and feeling utterly relaxed. When the songs play then, the resonate deep within your soul as you suddenly give whole new meanings to them. And by the next morning… Almost all if it, will be forgotten.

<p class="MsoNormal">-

<p class="MsoNormal">The next morning Rowan was once again awakened by that infernal rooster.

<p class="MsoNormal">As always his mother had opened his windows already so that the extreme heat of the indoor fire could escape.

<p class="MsoNormal">“A warm house is good. A hot house is not.” She would say. Mostly while doing some other chore around the house. Laundry, dish washing, cooking… You name it.

<p class="MsoNormal">Might sound as if she was our slave, but Rowan wasn’t too sure about that. She still had one hell of an authority over her household. Which Sterk mostly despised. The fool… It would never have passed to him she is that way because she worries and loves us.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan once again buried his head under his pillow. Hoping the soft wool would function as a buffer against the racket.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Sweet Mara… Alright! Alright!” Rowan yelled loudly as he got up with sleepy eyes, the size of a fishing hook.

<p class="MsoNormal">Half awake and with barely any drive in his system he shuffled over to his steel washing bowl, which his mother had already filled.

<p class="MsoNormal">The water was straight from lake Honrich so it was pretty cold. Worked perfectly as a method to get rid of sleepy eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan plunged his hands in, and splashed some of the water into his face as he bend over the bowl.

<p class="MsoNormal">Some of the cold water ran down his chest into his pants. The same happened on his back. He always hated it for some reason, and saw it as a test every morning to only hit his face with the cool lake water. But today was no such day. As he felt the little drop run down his leg and finally end its course somewhere down his left thigh. He walked over to his closet.

<p class="MsoNormal">And took out his usual, day to day outfit. Suitable for work and if it would ever occur, conflict. The chainmail and tunic, the trousers and legwarps, the belt and his locket. All seemed to be well.

<p class="MsoNormal">He stretched the chainmail straight, so it wouldn’t rest uncomfortably under his tunic and walked down to the kitchen. Where he’d be greeted with a plate of mashed eggs, fried potato and two pieces of salmon.

<p class="MsoNormal">He nodded at his mother, a sign of unspoken gratitude within Nord culture. She just looked at his plate, saying in her own unspoken manner he should eat.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan was a pretty sturdy Nord, probably because of his mother’s diets of pure calories and protein. Just anything that’ll stop you from knocking over she put in her stews and on your plate. And you better ate all of it, or she’d refuse to cook for you, both Kona and Rowan figured that out the hard way where they didn’t receive any food for a day and a half. By the evening of the second day they just gorged themselves on anything she had prepared. Ever since the young Autumn-Arrows learned it would be wise, not to skip one of mother’s meals.

<p class="MsoNormal">Sterk on the other hand never skipped a meal. In fact un top of the strong diet he was also quite the sweet tooth. Over the years he had grown a pretty big belly, which had been prone to mockery more than once, though it was mostly his own fault.

<p class="MsoNormal">Kona always got less than her brothers so she wasn’t really as fat as her younger brother.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan did most of the work so he was in pretty good shape, and also, a pretty able warrior. But the time for him to prove himself in battle has yet to come.

<p class="MsoNormal">After Rowan had swallowed the last bit of delicious Treva river salmon he leaned back as he fell the raw proteins being processed by his body, giving him the energy and strength for yet another day.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Pooh… Thanks again, Ma…” Rowan said as he rested his hands on his belly whilst leaning backwards on his chair.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, now you’ve got enough strength to last you through the day” She smiled as she came to collect the dishes.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan was about to put them away himself but she was ever so busy with the household he barely had to do anything around the house which, bizarrely, sometimes annoyed him.

<p class="MsoNormal">As he looked around the kitchen he started to notice the smell of the herbs and spices on the dry shelves somewhat above his head. A few moments ago they were blocked by the powerful odour of Treva salmon.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan sometimes left lake Honrich with his father to fish in the Treva river, where the current would almost make the fish fly into the nets. But you couldn’t fish there the year ‘round, because you eventually needed some of them to escape to lake Geir where they would breed a new generation of fish, which in turn would then cross the Treva again and back into lake Honrich.

<p class="MsoNormal">This would be usual fare in the fishing business of the Rift. And the Autumn-Arrows respected that.

<p class="MsoNormal">-

<p class="MsoNormal">Today was the 1st of First Seed 4E 304 and Rowan started his day like any other, But… Today wasn’t going to be an average one.

<p class="MsoNormal">As Rowan left the house he kissed his mother on the cheek and wished her a pleasant day. Once outside, he immediately noticed the greyish clouds above.

<p class="MsoNormal">Hmmm, It might rain today Rowan thought to himself as he looked up, while he squinting with his eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal">As he walked the boardwalk down to the town square he noticed that the leaves of the trees had turned brighter orange though, Last seed had most definitely arrived.

<p class="MsoNormal">Maybe we would get a summer like last year Rowan thought to himself.

<p class="MsoNormal">When we had such warm weather our crops had grown double their regular size 

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan smiled.

<p class="MsoNormal">''That would indeed be pretty nice. Considering we’d have a lot of food and free time then. ''

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan passed some of the decorated wooden longhouses near the temple and crossed the new stone bridge to the town square where merchants from around Skyrim, and Tamriel were trying to sell their wares. Rowan was always amazed by the guy from Hammerfell who came here frequently. He always had these weird smelling rugs and curved swords. (curved. Swords!) It had some really nice exotic flair to it all.

<p class="MsoNormal">But it seemed he wasn’t here today. No.

<p class="MsoNormal">Today it was mostly merchants for Morrowind.

<p class="MsoNormal">Hmmm Rowan sounded worried.

<p class="MsoNormal">Not a lot of Imperials… Rowan noticed.

<p class="MsoNormal">Most people, and especially Nords, wouldn’t be worried. But after what those crazy women told him weeks earlier, Rowan did.

<p class="MsoNormal">He thought back to what that Dunmer said:

<p class="MsoNormal">"If it's not Telemachus doing it through his hard on for War, it's Solaris trying to cause the next Oblivion Crisis."

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan looked around. to the Jarl’s keep.

<p class="MsoNormal">“maybe I really should tell him…” Rowan concluded after a few short moments of hesitation.

<p class="MsoNormal">“IF this Tele-whatever is going to rip Tamriel apart with an invasion force, the Rift and Skyrim need to be ready.”

<p class="MsoNormal">The Rift being a bordered with Cyrodiil made this all the more frightening.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan left the market and went straight for Mistveil keep. A large stone tower surrounded by thick walls which were covered in moss. It was one of the few buildings that wasn’t modified over the years and looked exactly as it did a hundred years ago.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan greeted the purple guard as he walked the stairs to the main entrance of the keep. Which was a Nordic decorated wooden door. The crafts work was pretty top-notch. Every corner of the rectangular door donned a dragon. In the middle of the door it was Akatosh, the dragon god of time. For the rest there were ‘Kyne’s wind’ geometrical shapes.

<p class="MsoNormal">After lingering a bit before the door, Rowan mustered his strength and entered the keep of his Jarl.

<p class="MsoNormal">Oskar Honour-House, the jarl of the Rift had just finished talking to one of his advisors as the  entrance across his dining table opened and the silhouette of Rowan walked into the light of the great fire.

<p class="MsoNormal">“hmmm…” Oskar leaned a bit more back into his throne. He noticed it was the son of Heppni Autumn-Arrow. A family well respected in the Rift, though not of kingly blood their family had done a lot for the city and the hold as a whole. They were at least guaranteed a voice in the keep, and Rowan Autumn-Arrow was no exception.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan reached the throne and bowed down to his Jarl.

<p class="MsoNormal">“My Jarl…”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Rowan, son of Heppni Autumn-Arrow. What brings you here?” Oskar said as he signalled his house carl there was no danger.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I have heard some unsettling news from Cyrodiil. My jarl.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Oskar frowned. “Oh yes?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Yes. I have heard whispers of an invasion.” Rowan said as he looked the jarl in the eyes for the first time.

<p class="MsoNormal">“An invasion?!” Oskar shouted in disbelief

<p class="MsoNormal">“…Yes, my Jarl.” Rowan said again with determination.

<p class="MsoNormal">Oskar looked worried. “hmmm, Autum-Arrow… Your name means a lot to this hold. And you have the freedom to come and ask me for any help. But this… This is crossing the line.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“But!” Rowan looked disappointed.

<p class="MsoNormal">“No. Our ties with the Empire have been stronger than ever since the civil war, a hundred years ago. I’m not going to throw all that away, because you had a hunch.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“But… There are no Imperial traders anymore, not even on the market square! Not for a few days anyways…” Rowan tried to plea.

<p class="MsoNormal">But Oskar brushed it off. “Is that all you have?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“No…” Rowan said a bit quietly

<p class="MsoNormal">“I heard it from a Dunmer down in Cyrodiil.” He then added.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Wouldn’t you think an actual Imperial would know what happened in his land better than some prankster Elf?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“…” Rowan couldn’t think of anything. He didn’t have a mountain of evidence to pick from. In fact, he had just shot all his chances.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Yes, my Jarl…” He bowed again.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Sorry for the disturbance” he quickly added.

<p class="MsoNormal">“It’s nothing. But next time, think before you come to me… The Autumn-Arrows have a good status in this city… Don’t spoil it.” Oskar made clear to Rowan.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan nodded. Defeated and worried he then left the keep.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Damnit!” Rowan said as he had left and stood just outside.

<p class="MsoNormal">The purple guard next to the door looked at him. “Everything alright?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“sigh…” Rowan shrugged at him and walked down the stone steps, back into the city.

<p class="MsoNormal">I should’ve had Kona with me, she could’ve done the talking…

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan scratched his neck.

<p class="MsoNormal">''Guess it’s too late now. ''

<p class="MsoNormal">However.

<p class="MsoNormal">Jarl Oskar has almost always been right about these sort of things… Perhaps this was no exception. Perhaps that Dunmer was really crazy… I mean, the Breton that was with her certainly was. She didn’t even know what Skyrim was.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan slowly started to place the weird experience as a lie. That’s what it was… There’s no real danger. I mean…  You don’t hear any news from Cyrodiil, right? They just lost their emperor, they’re weak. No way, they were gonna invade the other provinces again.

<p class="MsoNormal">Rowan smiled for a bit. Perhaps it was better this way.