Or keeping up with writing challenges. Those challenges were fun, I must say, and the short bursts of writing were making it easier to get into a writing mood. The problem is that, instead of anything I should be working on right now, I am feeling inspired to write the following: Continue reading
(This chapter contains adult themes.)
“Pah WERID, all praise… SONaaN LUNERIO, blah blah” Elspeth was studying the wall, muttering the words when Lydia sidled up next to her.
“Can you read all of that now?” she asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
Elspeth shook her head and looked at her friend slightly askance. Since leaving the college, she had fallen silent again, much like when they left Whiterun for High Hrothgar. Except this time Lydia was no longer wallowing in the depths of despair. Though it was apparent to Elspeth that she was purposely turning inward, she dared not ask why. Things were already awkward enough. Continue reading
“I need to get to Whiterun.”
“You’ll want to change your armor if you’re heading that way,” Ralof advised. “My sister runs the mill up in Riverwood. I’m sure she’ll help you out.”
“Are you hungry?” Elspeth was rummaging through her satchel. The stamina elixers had replenished her energy somewhat, but did nothing for the severe hunger pangs that were sticking her in the gut.
“Hungry?” asked Ralof, “Sure, I guess. Do you have more stamina elixir?”
“Better. I have apples.” She said as she held one out to him, “I took them from the keep.”
Ralof took the apple and smiled warmly, “You’re pretty resourceful, aren’t you?”
“Well, I try.”
“You did good Elspeth. Very good.”
Elspeth tried to stand up but the force of the Dragon’s roar pushed her down and she smacked the side of her head against the chopping block. “This is it,” she thought and just as she was about to let herself collapse into the dirt, she felt a strong hand dragging her away. Ralof hollered at her as he pulled her up, “Elspeth, get up! The gods won’t give us another chance! This way!”
Without looking back, she ran and as she approached the tower, Ralof shoved her forward as he jumped inside and out of the way of a massive chunk of burning stone. Ulfric Stormcloak was there with some other Stormcloak soldiers.
“Jarl Ulfric!” Ralof exclaimed, “What is that thing? Could the legends be true?”
“Legends don’t burn down villages.”
“I think that one did,” interjected Elspeth.
Ulfric and Ralof both gave her puzzled looks but did not respond as the dragon started howling again. A soldier grabbed her arms and cut through her binds. She rubbed her wrists but before she could thank him Ulfric started barking orders, “We need to move now.”
Author note: The first couple of chapters follow game-play fairly closely. But following that, the story becomes more expansive and original. Thank you for taking a moment to read! ~e
Elspeth felt the frigid air pierce her exposed skin as she slowly woke up. She tried to bring her hands up to her throbbing head, but the soldiers had bound her arms tightly, so she leaned forward, touched her forehead to her knees and let out a low groan. She looked at her clothes—tattered prison rags. Everything was covered with mud. The soldiers took everything—her sword, her weapons, her money.
From the other side of the cart she could hear someone talking to her. She looked over and saw a youngish blond Nord. His voice was warm and comforting. “Hey you,” he said, “you’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there.”
“Damn you Stormcloaks,” complained the thief, “Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you. I’d have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.” He turned to Elspeth and said, “You there, you and me, we shouldn’t be here; it’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”