Tales from Skyrim – The continuing Adventures of The Last Dragonborn
Her story – The Dovahkiin: As told to Adonato Leotelli - Resident Writer Candlehearth Hall 7,500 words
[May I introduce to you, dear readers, to the tales of an Adventurer, known across Skyrim as The Last Dragonborn. Here was indeed a Warrior, The Slayer of Alduin The World Eater, and if you have ever been privy to the dark secrets of The College of Winterhall, The Arch Mage, if only in title, and not a permanent fixture it would seem. Rumours persist of them being GuildMaster for The Thieves Guild, however I can neither confirm nor deny their involvement with this notorious organisation. I will attempt in my own way to provide recourse on some of the more noteworthy accomplishments of the Dovahkiin: Adonato]
My name is Adonato Leotelli, and I have over the years, heard many a tale from adventurers and lay folk, from Nobles and Mer about their lives, their troubles and the wonderous encounters they have had throughout all of Skyrim. Encamped at Candlehearth Hall I encounter many a weary traveller who over a tankard of mead or two, would tell me their story. Over a number of sittings, in the midst of some of the coldest Sun’s Dusk storms in my memory I sat awestruck as the Nord Legend herself, spoke to me of her past, and how she came to be in Skyrim in 4E 101.
The night was colder than any I remember during early Sun’s Dusk, and I was awaiting news on a delivery of one of my books to Winterhold on the 3rd day, when the Dragonborn came into the Inn, and sat down beside me. “Greeting’s Dovahkiin” I offered to her, as she had acted as a courier for me when we first met in Windhelm. I had no idea at the time what fate held for her, however she had remembered me as someone that could keep a confidence and would often tell me of her travels. As an Imperial, it was not often that a Nord would be so open about such things with me, however I had grown my reputation at Candlehearth Hall as someone who could be trusted to tell a good tale and protect the guilty or innocent depending on which side they were on. “Salutations Adonato” spoke she, “Can I offer you a drink or are you otherwise engaged?” she asked. “Oh, I’m always up for a mead my Lady” I proffered as a true Nord would, so as not to insult her. We began talking and, on this night, she began to tell me of her life before the events of Helgen and her memories as a child.
The Dragonborn remembers little of her birth or how she came to be, like most of us. She did tell me it was in the middle of Hearthfire 4E 185 that she was born. She grew up without a Father and has no memory of him. Her Mother was a Nord named Freyja Kjaroksson and they lived with her older sister Aelasel and her husband Hoafknir The Ravencrone in Morthal. Her Grandfather Neddmar Kjaroksson also lived with them. Hoafknir part owned a ship and did very well for himself and his family as a merchant. The Dragonborn does not recall if her Uncle is in any way connected to Idgrod Ravencrone and does not recall ever seeing her at her Aunts residence.
Freyja I was told, was a tall dark Nord who was lean and muscular, with defined Nord features and blue eyes, her thick black hair braided back and cut short. She wore Fur Armour she had crafted herself and posed a striking figure around Morthal. She had a reputation as a fighter, a brawler and a keen huntress. She was as strong as any man and very tall. Aelasel I was informed was not like her sister in looks but had her spirit. Aelasel was pretty and fair with long blonde hair, however she was strong and athletic like Freyja and also not afraid to use her fists to defend her honour if she felt it threatened. Both sisters were great examples the Dragonborn told me of strong Nord women.
Neddmar was a bear of a man, as she conjured a vision of what he was like in my mind “He would fill the doorway with his huge frame and the roar of his voice whether in laughter or consternation at the misdeeds of his daughters. I have memories of the scent of Mead, sweat, steel and whiskers.” She told me. “He had a beard which grew down onto his chest, and he preferred to keep it braided and was very proud of it. His blue eyes would light up whenever he saw me, and his greying dark hair was curly and wild. He had a ruddy complexion and dark tanned skin, that showed through the creases he had led a life out in the wild, and in battle.” She explained this with a fondness “I remember my mother on more than one occasion having to go down to the Moorside Inn to retrieve him when he had become too drunk to walk home. He would stagger into the house and see me there and pat me on the head and put his finger to his lips and go shoosh, don’t wake your Aunt before making his way to his bed and falling into it”.
The Dragonborn told me he was a soldier in The Imperial Army, that he fought in the Great War and had returned to Skyrim to find the old ways were not revered as he believed they should have been. Neddmar still carried his Steel Battle axe as a token of his service to The Empire regaling how many elves had met their demise by the still sharpened blades of his weapon. He spent his days with her, and his nights out revelling, but he had a good heart, and was protective of his family.
“My first memories of Morthal were the swamps and marshes outside of the town and being warned by my mother not to stray too far from the house. The mountains ranges in the distance always had snow and I wondered what lived up there” The Dragonborn spoke softly, her face easing back and the wrinkles of time relaxing. “My Mother was a strong proud woman, who worked hard providing for us. She was a skilled huntress and would venture into the wilds and bring back game, caught, trapped or brought down with a bow and arrow”. She continued “My Aunt did not approve of this, and would have many an argument with her sister, that Hoafknir would provide for them, and she should, if she wanted the gold, sell her wares at The Moorside Inn. This led to my mother telling Aunt Aelasel that her Milk Drinker husband did not need to provide a thing for us, and this in turn lead to more squabbling, and eventually the intervention of my Grandfather to settle things down. I would sit and watch and learned that though she was the younger of the pair, my Mother was more than a match for Aelasel in a brawl.”
The Dragonborn took time to order some more mead and spoke of how Uncle Hoafknir was not around much anyway, that he was a rude ruthless man and he was always travelling. He did provide a house, food and wealth, for his wife but he didn’t provide much else.
“My Grandfather spent more time with me than my Mother teaching his only grandchild the ways of the Old Nords, schooling me about Kynareth The Sky Goddess who he referred to as Kyne and the spiritual relationship Nords have with breathing and the hunt. May the wind guide You, he used to say”, Said she and went on “He would speak of the legends of the Storm Voice, the Thu’um and how Ancient Nords had learned it’s power to defeat Dragons.” The Dragonborn said this with a look of reverence, acknowledging the influence Neddmar Kjaroksson had on her as a child. “He also had taught his two girls how to hunt and be proud of who they were, and my mother loved him for it.” She said, “Sometimes I think back to how easy it would have been if this whole Dragonborn Prophecy had been just a myth and I could have lived out my life with my family in Morthal”. The Dovahkiin sat back and some time passed before she began the next part of her story.
“I would have been 10 or 11 and it was in the middle of Frostfall and I was outside, practicing my breathing, and imagining myself shouting at Dragons and enjoying the evening not far from the house, but far enough away to see out into the swampy mist of Hjaalmarch that was not a stone’s throw from my home. At first, I didn’t notice the threat coming towards me, I was too engrossed in my mind’s eye and this may have saved my life.“ she said this with a sense of pride and continued “The Mud crab had ventured up from its swampy lair, maybe thinking that it could make a meal of the young girl playing nearby. It came towards me quickly, its pincers opening and closing, scurrying on its little legs and if I was not at the time, so deeply involved in my game of make believe, that it would have had me. When I realised that I was in danger I had no time to react other than as the character I was pretending to be and breathed in the air around me and shouted the Battle Cry of the Nords my Grandfather had taught me. FUS! Came out of my tiny body and the sound was like the squeak of a small whining Skeever” she laughed at this part. “The crab stopped and fell back and flopped on to its back, much to my astonishment, and while it attempted to right itself, I ran home and informed my Grandfather of what had happened”.
The Dragonborn eyed me with a wry smile noticing my bemusement, drank some mead and continued “Neddmar Kjaroksson was not a man to be trifled with and he did not take kindly to being made a fool of. He looked me in the eye and spoke as harshly towards me as he had ever before, or after” she eased out the words slowly and recounted how he had said to her ”My child, you are lucky to be alive, your mother has warned you of the peril that awaits in the swamps as have I” he scolded “and for the life of me, the Battle Cry is for the warrior, not children. I have not taught you any words, let alone the language of the Dovah, how can this be? What word do you speak of?” “He then gazed into my soul” said the Dragonborn “or so it felt and pleaded with me to speak the word again, which I could not. This made him angrier and he sent me off to my bed and told me not to get up until my mother returned. When she did, I was woken and asked to recount the entire story again, much to the look of disdain from my Aunt, concern from my Grandfather, and a look of resignation and despair from my Mother.”
The Dragonborn then told me of how her Mother became distraught, and begged her Father to forget what had happened, that it was just the over active imagination of a young girl and the stupid stories that he had filled her head with. My Aunt was having none of it and dismissed the whole thing and went to bed. Neddmar Kjaroksson asked her again what word she had used, and when the Dragonborn told him “I didn’t know, that maybe I just made one up”, she was given something to eat and allowed to return to her cot. While she dozed and fell asleep, she could hear the voices of her Mother and her Grandfather and neither were happy about whatever it was they were discussing.
I asked the Dragonborn “But how would you know a Word of Power at such an age, who taught it to you if not your Grandfather?” “I always thought it was from him, but I know now that it was from Akatosh” the Dovahkiin replied. “I was born with the soul of a Dragon and have the power of the voice and the power of the Dovah lying dormant within me. The stories my Grandfather told me about breathing, and Kyne, had opened up my mind to other realms of consciousness and I believe that when my life was threatened, Akatosh, or an aspect of him, gave me the knowledge in that instance to save myself”. The Dovahkiin continued “This was the first moment when those around me other than my Mother sensed that I was more than just a little Nord girl who liked to listen to the stories of her Grandfather and play make believe”.
The Dragonborn then bid me farewell with the promise that she would continue her story the next time she was in Windhelm and left me to ponder what I had just been told. I was struck more by what I had not been said, than what she had revealed and made a mental note to ask a few more questions the next time we met.
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I next saw The Hero of Skyrim, some 10 nights later during Sun’s Dusk and the storms and the weather here in Windhelm continued to freeze the unfortunate souls who could not find a bed out of the cold, or near to a fire to warm themselves overnight. The Dragonborn looked in good health when I saw her, her physical appearance always announcing how wonderful and athletic the Nord female was. She was tall, with broad shoulders and defined arms and biceps, that gave her a look of strength and power, even under her Armour, which this day was polished Ebony Mail. Her legs too were robust with defined quadriceps and her calves filled her ebony boots. There was nothing but lean and sculptured muscle about her torso and her hips curved up to what appeared to be a flat taut waist. Her features were classic Nord, blonde hair braided to one side, shoulder length, high cheekbones, a long thin nose and when I studied her eyes there is perhaps a hint of Breton about them. The eyes of this incredible woman are hazel and green with flecks of blue, or blue with flecks of green and her eyebrows are sitting like thick manicured arches above them. She had dark blush colours around her eyelids and under her brows which were brown and gold and crimson matching her crimson lips. Her eyelashes were long and helped conceal the mystery of her eye colour, casting some shadow across the smokey gaze that befell me when she caught me staring at her as she walked over to where I was sitting.
“I owe you a continuation of my own story do I not Adonato” she greeted me with as well as waving over Susanna to order some Mead and something to eat. “Greetings to you fair Lady, I am always at your service, let alone more than humbled to be in your presence”. I found myself stumbling over the words for I had not forgotten our last meeting and was keen to hear the next instalment. “So, where do I begin again” she said almost to herself after she had eaten a full side of beef and vegetable soup without recourse.
“As I recall I had informed you of the time that I first used the language of the Dovah and how I now believe that it was a birthright I had no idea that I had inherited, am I correct?, she asked me, to which I replied with this “Dovahkiin, you did tell me you believed that an aspect of Akatosh enlightened your soul to save you from certain death when you were a child, and bestowed upon you the ability to defeat a predator of Hjaalmarch with a shout. Do you still intend to tell me this is true?”
The Dragonborn looked over at me and with more than a hint of satisfaction said, “Excellent interpretation, you are indeed a skilled scribe. That is much better than a young girl attempting to use the Battle Cry of the Nord and letting out a squeak of terror instead. Shall I continue with what occurred afterwards?” “Please do” I entreated, believing that she uttered no cry other than her first word of power.
The Warrior before me took a sip from her tankard and spoke of how her Mother had awoken her early the next morning, with all their belongings packed into a Knapsack and Satchel for herself, and they had left Morthal without saying their goodbyes to her Grandfather or her Aunt. At the time she believed her Mother was taking her to meet her Father, and therefore they had left without speaking to their family. Her Mother told her as they walked up the road and away from Morthal “Your Grandfather never approved of who your Father was and would not have allowed it. I also grew tired of arguing with your Aunt, so we will find a life for ourselves away from Morthal, and hopefully in warmer climes”.
“We travelled south and then east and into the forests of Hjaalmarch. The trees grew up high and tall with thick dark trunks and every shade of green I could imagine. I could smell the scent of the earth and the living plants that were sprawled across the forest floor. It was as if I had discovered where I belonged. The tall pines made a welcome change from the twisted trees around Morthal, and the higher ground, although not warmer, was not dank and covered in wet mist like the swamps near my Aunt's home.
We made camp in the trees off the road after walking all day.” The Dragonborn told me “My Mother never spoke of my Father, or who he was, or where we were going. She had a determined look I knew well and when I grew tired, she would laugh and pick me up and carry me for a time, reminding me of how much I loved being with her” she said this while staring into the hearth nearby. “My mother would kiss me and put me down after a while and we kept moving into the forest. That night she prepared a meal of rabbit and leeks and it was incredible. I felt excited about my life, and how grand it was to be out among the wilds of Skyrim, living like an Ancient Nord, with our strength and our wits to keep us well”. The Dragonborn told me she felt safe with her Mother and it never occurred to her that a bear or a pack of wolves could attack at any moment and end their lives. She slept under the stars next to the fire while her Mother dozed next to her. She awoke the next morning to find Freyja Kjaroksson skinning a wolf and a breakfast of vegetable soup.
After another day trekking through the forest they came upon a dog, that approached them with his head down. “My Mother spoke to the dog, as if he would understand her questions, and she asked him if he knew of an empty dwelling nearby and to my amazement, the dog then lead us to a shack in the forest, not far off the road.” The Dragonborn said “My Mother told me that her Father would meet us here and that we were to wait. It was a small two room building with one bed, a table and drawers. My Mother told me to take the bed and she set about starting a fire just outside. The dog, happy to have some company, stayed and I fell asleep content with our new home. My Grandfather arrived three days later, and I was glad to see him”, the Dragonborn told me, “however he was stern and serious with my Mother, for bringing me out into the forest away from Morthal”.
“Are you sure about this daughter?” he asked her “You believe that my grandchild is the fulfillment of some prophecy, and her identity must remain secret?” to which my mother replied “If word got out, that a child had used the Storm Voice, I am sure the Agents of the Thalmor would be upon us Father. I must protect her. Aelasel would have told her stupid husband, and he in turn would have bragged about it on the docks. My child would have been taken from me. I think for a time we will be safe here, and she can train to be a huntress as we had discussed” was how my mother finished the conversation. My Grandfather agreed reluctantly and called me to him “Child, you are strong and a true daughter of Skyrim. Today you will become a warrior and learn the way of the hunt. This is for you” and he gave me my first hunting bow and a quiver full of iron arrows. He also gave me a steel dagger, that he said he had acquired from a drunken Imperial Soldier during a drinking contest at the Moorside Inn. “This is how I learned to hunt, to provide for myself, and the art of stealth and evasion.” The Dragonborn said this finishing her ale and ordering another. “I was happiest in the forest with our dog, and my mother hunting deer and living a life free of regrets. I didn’t even think to ask my Mother where or who my Father was. It didn’t matter”.
The Dovahkiin said she never discussed again the evening in Morthal, her encounter with the Mud crab, or Dovah. In fact, she never pretended to be a Storm Voice Warrior again, her time was spent learning her craft with the bow and becoming invincible to her prey in the forest. For 5 years she lived out of that shack with her mother, and the dog, learning how to hunt and the way of the warrior. The Dragonborn told of how she was schooled in how to skin deer, tan their skins, and butcher the meat into venison. She told me how her Mother took the fur of her first sabretooth kill into Dragonbridge were it was sewn and shaped into her first set of Fur Armour. She grew up fast, filling out and reaching the same height as her mother within 2 years. The changes in her body, the growing of her strength and endurance, of her becoming a woman, out in the forest of Hjaalmarch shaped her physique to the physical peak she displays today.
There were times when they encountered other hunters, and she quickly understood the importance of trading your skins, cured meats and local ingredients with others. “My Mother had me living as she always imagined her life would have been like, if my father had not interrupted her with my conception and inevitable birth” The Dragonborn said, with what sounded like a sigh. “We stayed away from towns and villages, only my mother occasionally venturing up to Dragonbridge when we needed some vegetable or fruit that we could not source for ourselves from the forest or our hunter brethren. I learned to listen for the sound of men, for in the out reaches of Skyrim, it would mean Bandits or Outlaws. They were to be avoided, and we became quite good at that.” She continued. “I also learned to be wary of caves, for they were the lairs of not only bears and sabre tooths, but evil men and women who had given their souls to dark magic or worse”.
"I made an effort to get up in the Hjaalmarch Hills and visit the Shrine of Kynareth when my Grandfather would come to see us" she told me, before indicating she had to finish and had to leave.
The Dovahkiin drained her tankard, informed me she had business to attend to and made her way out of Candlehearth Hall, acknowledging Stenvar with a wave and short discussion before she left.
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During an early afternoon on the 2nd day of Evening Star I encountered the Dragonborn and we took up again the tale of her life in the forests of Hjaalmarch.
“My Grandfather continued to visit us and bring trinkets and mead for my Mother to drink in the evenings”, she began with less zeal than I expected.” On this day he had brought an amulet for me however my Mother told him to put it away, and that I could have it on my birthday, which was in few days’ time, which would have been 16 Winters of my time on Nirn,“ said she as her voice drifted off and I could see that this was a memory that disturbed her. I tried to change the subject to give her time to consider her thoughts, but she went on and described what occurred later that night.
“My Grandfather and Mother were outside by the fire, enjoying the mead he had brought up from Morthal, while I was inside the shack, tired from a day’s hunting and the task of cleaning skins and tanning them. The dog was beside me, sleeping. As it was dark, and I was now lying on my bed, I began to drift off when an explosion of lightening sent me reeling to the floor. I could feel the energy of the sparks through the thin walls of the shack as another lightning bolt struck just outside. I could hear my Mother shouting at her Father to get inside which he was having none of, “Run daughter, grab your child and run” he bellowed before unleashing the Battle Cry of The Nord towards what I thought were the wizard and bandits who had ambushed us.
My ears were still ringing, and my Mother screamed as the attackers continued their advance, unperturbed by the Cry, which should have given us time to retreat into the forest.” The Dragonborn looked up at me and I knew that they were being attacked by the undead. “We were ambushed by A Vampire Nightstalker and two of his Thralls, who had seen the light of the fire each night and I suspected the scent of our blood must have been too much for them to resist. They were upon my Grandfather now who had his Battle Axe out and began to defend himself, while my Mother went for her bow.
Stunned by another lightning strike and not able to resist the dark magic of the Nightstalker my Grandfather fell.
My Mother cursed the foul beings that attacked us, took aim with her bow and with a successive quick fire of 3 arrows was able to take the head off the nearest Thrall, however the Nightstalker had now reanimated the corpse of my dead Grandfather and he turned towards my Mother groaning his resistance and attacked her. She retreated away in horror and towards the other Vampires. I had my bow and was frozen still while watching the carnage before me unfold. The dog barked and growled, and it ran to defend my Mother but was kicked aside by the Nightstalker who now had her in his grasp. She turned towards me and as I took aim with my bow, I understood that she wanted me to take the shot, to distract the Nightstalker long enough for he to escape his dark embrace. My aim was on target for the Vampires chest, when he moved his head to one side away from my Mothers neck and moved her in front of himself, and I split her head with my arrow, and she fell from the Nightstalker’s clutches with her eyes open wide still upon mine. Through tears of rage and an ache in my soul I had never felt before, I took my chance to kill the other Thrall before the Nightstalker hit me with a Lightening Bolt, sending me up into the air and against a beam in the corner of the shack, knocking me down into the depths of darkness”. The Dragonborn was breathless as she finished telling me of the death of her Mother and Grandfather. I feared there was worse to come.
“I awoke in a cage” she explained “My head aching, and dried blood matted in my hair. I was still very groggy, but I could make out that I was hanging above ground, alongside similar narrow entrapments. I checked my hands and fingernails and did not think I was dead, or indeed a Vampire, however the disease itself does take time to germinate, if this was to be my fate. There appeared to be another body in a cage two down from me, but I could not tell if they were alive.” It turned out they were not. Or human. The Dragonborn went on to describe the cave, it's walls were a dark red, blue/grey and dry. Above her she could see that it had been carved out of the rock centuries before, she had at the time no idea where, or who her captor was. She knew that he was a Vampire and that she was most likely being prepared to become his newest thrall.
“I didn’t have long to wait for answers it turned out” The Dragonborn began after a short pause to drink some mead and collect herself. “The Nightstalker appeared before me and introduced himself as my new Master and his name was Azzerrad. He was a Breton Blooded Vampire and had spent months inducting three thralls into his Clan. He needed four thralls to complete his ritual for Molag Bal and ascend to Master Vampire status among his kind. He was unhappy he would have to begin again, but as he menacingly informed me, time was on his side” “I did not speak to him at all “said she, “I ignored him and refused to even make eye contact. This monster had killed my grandfather and forced me to kill my mother. I would have revenge or death, and I would not be afraid or cower when the opportunity arose”. The Dragonborn told me this, with fire in her eyes, and a deliberate spelling out of her intent in a slow calm manner.
The Dovahkiin wondered how her captor was going to initiate her into his service and was surprised to learn that she had yet to be infected with Sanguinare Vampiris and the Nightstalker wanted to capture another two initiates so he could convert them together and fulfil his obligation to Molag Bal the Daedric Prince of Domination and The Enslavement of Mortals. The Dragonborn had heard of this Dearda from her Mother and feared she was in dire peril. She would become a vampire soon enough but had time to plan her escape and revenge.
This she discovered by talking to one of the fool bandits who had decided to become servants of the Nightstalker and guard the entrance to his lair during the day. Spared of the Immortal Blood they could eat and drink and live a decadent life while doing very little other than keeping the entrance safe from wolves and trolls, or nosy rival plunderers like themselves. “I was able to learn a great deal from a Nord bandit, Mojkum, who had a thing for me I’m sure, and didn’t like what happened to the young girls he was guarding after they turned.” The Dragonborn explained. “He was also terrified of Azzerrad and was not much older than me and had been tricked into his service by a Breton Mage who befriended the young Nord when in Helgen. I had what I believed a day or so to convince him to let me out, so I could kill the Nightstalker and we could escape together”. The Dragonborn continued detailing her plan for escape “Mojkum came to me my second night in the cage and told me to be ready, as he had a key for the lock and slipped it to me. I hissed at him to get me a weapon, which he would not do until he was convinced, I would not betray him. I agreed to not kill him if he let me out, which startled him, and he passed me the steel Imperial dagger my Grandfather had given me. I took it and strengthening my resolve waited for a chance to climb down out of the small hanging cell.”
The Dragonborn then told me how the Nightstalker made his visit to her when he awoke at sunset, and promised that she would be his soon enough, before leaving the cave, to no doubt hunt for blood and another unsuspecting thrall for his clan. The bandit guards were in another section of the cave and she knew she had time to get down and find her bow and quiver. She was determined not to leave without them. She was to meet Mojkum near the exit of the room where the hanging cages were arranged. He was there and he took her to a room further inside the cave to a chest that had weapons she had never seen before. “The Glass Bow and arrows were taken from Elves and will be much better to surprise Azzerrad with than your hunting bow Mojkum told me”, the Dragonborn said. “It was a beautiful weapon and it felt light and liquid in my hands. It was green and shining gold, with a feel of energy that pulsed when I picked it up. I also put on the leather armour that was in the chest as well as the matching boots and immediately felt alive again. Mojkum explained that they were enchanted by Elve Mages”, she informed me. “I then decided it was probably a good idea to get some practice in with the bow and Mojkum and I snuck around to where the other guards were now half way through a barrel of mead and enjoying the spoils of their detestable employer.” Said the Dragonborn.
She continued, “Mojkum had his Imperial bow and steel arrows ready and we crept down into a position where we could fire together and quickly kill two of the three revelling guards before finishing the third. That was the first part of our escape plan. I nodded towards Mojkum and we both fired a first shot together” she reflected on this for a moment and then continued. “My glass arrow flew straight from the now shining bow and pierced the chest of the Dunmer guard, and the force of the blow flung him up against the wall of the cave killing him instantly. This was the first time I had killed a mortal and I felt something stir within me, but pushed the feelings down inside ignoring the thrill I felt for exacting some small revenge for my Mother. Mojkum’s arrow also struck it’s target but did not have the same effect.” explained the Dragonborn. “It lodged in the shoulder of the Breton Mage and he turned in disbelief and shouted at Mojkum an inaudible obscenity and cursed him for his betrayal. My second arrow took his head clean off and his body collapsed in a heap with blood spraying the now alerted third Orc guard sitting next to him.” She said this quickly, the grim details all the more unpleasant as she then informed me,
“The Orc rose from his seat also cursing us, and brandishing a massive Orc blade rushed at Mojkum, who tried and failed to slow him down with another arrow that hit him in his right leg. The Orc was upon Mojkum and his raised sword was coming down towards him when my third glass arrow struck his wrist, shattering the bone, and tendons in an explosion of blood and bristle. This caused the now limp hand to lose grip of the descending sword which carved through poor Mojkum severing his right arm from his shoulder. The shock and force of the blow maybe sending him to Sovngarde, but I hoped Oblivion.
The screams of anguish from the Orc were deafening, and he turned towards me with blood pouring out of his wounded right arm. He spat at me with his guttural Orcish language spilling out of him, like his blood was now spewing onto the floor of the cave. I took the time to make sure this final arrow gave him a quick death and it struck him in the gullet, silencing his shrieks and throwing him back over the rocks that Mojkum and been hiding behind.” She said this finishing her mead and looking for another from Susanna and told me without emotion that the Glass bow was much more effective than her hunting bow had ever been. “Well yes, it would seem so “, I replied.
“There were no other bandits guarding the cave?” I asked her as another round of Mead arrived at our table. “Yes, there was one stationed at the front of the cave” said she “He was a brute of a man, taller and fiercer than my Grandfather and he was I believe a Vampire as well.” The Dovahkiin then went into how the Nord Vampire was most likely a Mistwalker and was Azzerrad’s second in command and would stay at the front of the cave all night guarding and waiting for his Master to return. This Vampire had taunted her many times as she hung in her cage over the past two days. She informed me that Mojkum had told her he was a fiend and he was there to make sure the bandits didn’t leave when Azzerrad was out at night hunting. The Dragonborn now alone, believed that she would not be able to fight off two Vampires to escape the cave, and began to look for an alternative. This burnt the Dragonborn, as she wanted her revenge against the undead who took her family from her. She knew from the tales of her Grandfather, that some of these caves sometimes gave access to remnants of old Nord or Dwemer Ruins and if she could find her way into one, there may be another exit for her to escape through.
Returning to the chest where she had taken the Glass Bow, she looked for parchments or maps or a clue to other sections of the lair. She found none. Searching Mojkum’s remains and his knapsack she found nothing to help her there either. Putting the blood-stained knapsack on her back she decided to go deeper into the tunnels that lead off from the chamber were she and Mojkum had defeated the three bandit guards. Fearful of what may lay ahead, she crept forward as silently as she ever had when hunting deer, working her way down deeper into the dark warren of the Vampire’s liar. She sneaked her way left and right, and over a stream and ahead of her a faint illumination invited her down another tunnel and then out into an opening, that revealed to her to a massive cavern. This cavern also appeared to have been carved out the mountain and was large enough to fit a mammoth or two. In the cavern the Dragonborn described to me there was a long table, set up with goblets and plates, and what she discovered were the remains of men, women and mer. Gold and gems covered the long bench. She was able to fill Mojkum’s knapsack with some of the loot. There were candles burning in front of an altar, that had given her the hint of the existence of the Vampires Dining Hall and believed it was a Daedric Shrine or relic, left from centuries before. She had hope that the steps either side of it would lead her out of this nightmare and to the surface.
“At the rear of the Altar, there was a passage, blocked by several vertical iron bars. I looked everywhere for a handle or pull chain, that would reveal a secret opening or something that would lead me to an escape up and out through the passage.” The Dragonborn spoke quietly now, “I was near panic, when I found the chain left of the iron bars, concealed out of sight beside a pillar. I pulled it down and the iron bars slide into the ground with the squeak of rusty metal to reveal it was an exit passage, and another chest.” The Dragonborn was then set upon by a Vampire, much older than her, who tore at her with sharp her nails and screeched at her “Die bitch, die!!” “I was taken by surprise, however the leather armour I was wearing protected me from her onslaught and I was able to draw my steel dagger and made several thrusts into her chest” the Lady explained. “I finished her with my Grandfather’s gift by pushing it up through her chin and into her brain, with one of her eyeballs popping out of it’s socket as I withdrew the blade from her now lifeless corpse, as I said, No, you die Bitch.” The Dragonborn then explained how she pushed the dead thrall aside and went through the unlocked chest and found a Daedric Dagger and some more gems.
The passage lead her up and out of the cave, and it took some time for her to make the climb up and out into the early mists of a Skyrim morning. “I was at the top of a mountain surrounded by trees,” said she “and breathed in the smell of fresh air and the forest for a moment, filling my lungs. I believed I was some distance from the forest where we had been attacked. I had been here before in my forays into the wild, and after running to a clearing I confirmed that I was a fair distance north of my forest home and could see Solitude sitting up upon its arch on the horizon. I gathered myself for the journey back to the shack, retrieved some fruit and cheese from the knapsack and ate quickly. I then began the journey at a canter to where I hoped I would find the undesecrated remains of my family”. She swallowed the last of her mead and looked out across the room.
The Dovahkiin told me that she knew she had a half days journey back to the shack and would need to then prepare and observe for her Mother and Grandfather the rites of a Nord Funeral as best she could. She ran through the forest, past the rocks and over streams, taking gulps of air as she made her way down the mountain, and across the plains to her home of 5 years. She told me she never encountered beast or bird and arrived just after midday to find the scene as she had remembered it. A pile of ash lay where her Grandfather had fallen, his Battle Axe beside it, and her mother’s lifeless body stared up at her with the iron arrow still wedged deep into her skull. The Dovahkiin had sunken into her chair and then realising she was feeling the melancholy of the moment, shook herself out it. “I knew I had little time to prepare them, for the Nightstalker would know to return here to pick up my trail. I gathered two piles of timber from around my home in the forest and began building a pyre for each of them in a clearing away from the shack.
It took time but I summoned all of my will to complete the task and then lay the body of my Mother and the ashes of her Father alongside each other.” She said solemnly. “I placed my Mother’s hunting bow and her quiver with her remains and my Grandfathers Battle Axe on top of the other pyre with the ashes that were all that was left of him next to her. I checked for the amulet my Grandfather had spoken of, but it was not anywhere to be found. My eyes burned and I tried to hold back the emotion, but I could not and began sobbing” The Dovahkiin sat before me with her eyes soft in the twilight, tearful, but not brimming over. She continued, “I knew how to start a fire with my fire plough which was next to the shack in an open box. Using this to create the ember and some dry soft underbrush as tinder to start the process in between them, I fanned the smoke into flames onto the dead branches I had collected. They were soon ablaze, and I stepped back up wind so I wouldn’t have to suffer the stench of my Mothers burning flesh” The Dragonborn kept her gaze ahead of her, reliving the moment in her mind and continued to speak slowly. “I prayed to Kyne and Shor to take the spirits of my family and provide them with fresh grounds to hunt in or if they wished to the Halls of Shor in Sovngarde. I did not dwell on this for long, and when the flames began to subside, I made my way down to the road and headed south towards what I hoped would be Falkreath”.
She told me she then came across three Imperial soldiers who were escorting a prisoner to Helgen and decided to join them, for no Bandits or Vampires would attack that many armed men. They were distrusting of her and noticing the Elven bow she carried on her back told her they were on Imperial business and “to step aside”.
“You realise Adonato that I was not in any mood to step aside for anyone or give up my weapons.” Said the Dragonborn. “The soldiers took me by surprise, as I didn't expect them to attack me, and I can only thank my stars they did not kill me there. The next thing I knew I was on the back of a carriage in irons and on the way to Helgen to be executed with the Stormcloaks. I knew nothing of them or who they were. All my possessions had been taken from me and the sky above me shone down on the motley group I was set among that fateful day….” And she let the last of her words trail off.
We both sat for a moment and the Dovahkiin looked across at me and said with a raised eyebrow breaking the mood, “you have never asked me what my name is, do you wonder what my mother called me?” she asked. “Well no, I’m intrigued” I replied, “I know you as the Dovahkiin, the Hero of Skyrim, the Dragonborn, do I need to know what your mother called you?” said I, hoping that she would tell me.
“Another time then” she laughed, and she was gone. On the table was a missive, which looked as though it was a Letter of some sort and it was addressed to Deniris Kjaroksson. “Funny name for a Nord I thought to myself?”