Andante
Roleplaying Moderator
"When I reminisce about all those years - I see many things.
Life and death strung together, like the mountains and valleys in which we lived.
There was wealth and opulence, but also tribulation and loss.
There was laughter and song - And there were also tears. But even more than tears, blood was shed. And so many were left to their unadorned graves.
Unburied.
But to us death was but another journey, and close by the darkness through which we strode.
There was also light. The light of life and immortality.
And after all, when I reminisce about those years, I mostly remember our songs.
We sang.
As if to drown out the sound of clashing swords - as if the battle cries fell silent.
Because, war had lost its meaning."
The rise of a new dawn.
Years had passed, uncertain in number, though they felt like a pitiless eternity. The fog of war had long since settled over the province of Skyrim. The fighting had stopped long ago. The clashing echo of steel was but a faint and distant memory. Though, the bloodshed and true suffering had only begun. While no opposing sides drew weapons against the other on a field of battle, the landscape of the province had forever been changed; less than a shadow of what it once had been. The richness and complexity of life and the land had all but been destroyed. Homes and temples ravaged and burned to the ground, farmland razed and left in ruin, and clean water poisoned with disease. Death and decay dotted the landscape, and embraced what remained with a corrupt affinity.
So many winters had come and gone, the only predictability left amid the disarray. So many lives had been changed, and so many lost. Brother turned against brother in haste and anguish as persecution spread like wildfire. Hardly a true heart remained, as corruption crept among the masses, venomous, and poised to strike at whomever had succumbed to their desperation. Survival was all there was to life now, and there were those that would do anything to keep themselves alive. Whether it be to sell their lives into the hands of their oppressors for just a scrap of gold, or risk labeling themselves a traitor for security, no one was above the adulterating fear that death and uncertainty could instill.
Small in number were those that remained true to themselves. Few were those who feared not death, and would stand to meet it without hesitation to defend what they, against all hope, still believe in…
Nertom woloutom que etsi snis...
...We are strong and we are rich.
Emmos snis riyi emmos snis...
...We are free, that's what we are.
Emmos snis riyi emmos snis andometi...
... We are free and we are untamed.
In our hearts, and in our minds...by the gods, we are still free.
Every time she closed her eyes, the nightmares returned. Seamless as they were with her waking hours, she would endure a lifetime of hardship to escape only a moment of the horrors that plagued her rest. For those who had ever known a semblance of normalcy, a mere echo of peace, memory proved to be even more painful than the stark reality.
There were some, children mostly, who knew nothing of a time before conflict. They knew nothing but oppression and war. They knew nothing of life outside the walls of their crumbling sanctuary. All simplicity and innocence were corrupt, and nothing remained but primal instinct. Fight. Survive. It was the natural order of things - it was all they knew.
Life was no longer about living, but a mere gruesome struggle to stay alive.
Perched atop one of the ruined watchtowers of what once was the thriving city of Helgen, she fought to keep herself alert. There was no certain way of telling the last time she'd slept soundly, much less an entire night. One eye always open. Always on guard. One false move meant lives. The lives of helpless men, women, and children who all looked to her to provide them with safety, with sanctuary. In such trying times, trust was in short supply and she couldn't let a dependency like that rest lightly. Commander. Commander Stone-Hilt they called her of their own accord, as if she were at the helm of the world's strongest army. Pioneer of an unknown fate. Though, to live again, was all she desired - the same as the rest of them.
There was no knowing how long she'd sat, gazing out across the barren plain. She had taken a risk in emerging from the deep, and crumbling halls, but food was running low. Sickness and starvation ran rampant, and people were dying as quickly as they came. Her own body ached with hunger, but there were those in more dire need than she, and the danger was well worth the cost. Narrowing her eyes against the murky light of early morning, she looked for any hint of movement but to no avail. It had been months since she'd seen any creature of substantial size, much less anything decent to be hunted. If the deer and elk weren't dying themselves, they were being hunted to stuff the gullets of the wealthy and privileged. Little was left otherwise. Still, the situation had become desperate; children dying in their mother's arms, entire families wracked with disease falling where they stood. Their corpses littered the deepest halls of the hold, a solemn reminder of what awaited them all.
Rising carefully, she descended from the tower and crept quietly along the uncertain boundaries of the ruined fort walls. The salt blocks she had wedged next to the piles of rubble lie untouched, save for a few gnaw marks left by a wandering skeever, no doubt. It had been an incredible gamble, using the last of their quickly depleting supplies in such a carefree manner, but if it meant attracting a few animals it was a worthwhile prospect. Her stomach gave a clearly audible growl at the thought of roast venison, and she patted it with disgust. Desperation had driven her more than once to eating nothing better than rodents to keep herself alive, and she was almost ashamed to admit she would do it again if she had to. She doubted she reserved enough strength to properly draw her bow, but at this point she would resolve to strangle an elk with her bare hands if one would simply wander her way.
Falling back slightly she crouched behind the collapsed ruins of an outbuilding and waited patiently. Drawing an arrow from her quiver she ran it slowly between her fingers, anxious to fire it into the first living thing that wandered her way. Elf or elk, she would make certain they wouldn't leave the ruins of Helgen alive. She closed her eyes if only for a moment, and listened for the even the slightest disturbance, but the only sounds that filled her mind were those she was already so accustomed to hearing.
Deep below, the moldering tunnels echoed with the hushed voices and labored, ragged breath of the huddled masses that claimed the keep as their sanctuary. The muffled cries of ailing children. The stifled muttering of the dying. Driven so deeply underground, no better than vermin, they scavenged in their own squalor, awaiting their uncertain fates. Then again, nothing was certain anymore save that this, abysmal as it was, was preferable to whatever lie in wait for them on the surface.
Suddenly, there was a short sound that echoed in the distance. Hana snapped to alertness and wrapped her hand around her bow, ready to strike. It sounded again, a short rasping breath, the shuffle of something being dragged along the ground, and a piteous bellow. It was no sound an elf or human would make, not even in the most mortal of peril. She slid forward in a silent crouch, almost shaking with exhilaration. Just along the horizon, where the fields dipped into low, rolling hills she caught sight of the creature, a small deer barely of age to be on its own, shuffling weakly toward the ruins. She bit her lip in anticipation, gently sliding the arrow into place, hoping it would be desperate enough to wander within range.
The withered creature lifted its head into the softly blowing wind, almost certainly catching the scent of the salt she had laid out. Cautiously, it inched closer, its thin, spindly legs hardly strong enough to crush flat the dry grass underfoot, and began rooting at a pile of rubble that concealed the salt block it so feverishly searched for. As it approached she could see what a wretched state it was in. Half dead no doubt with starvation, its thin skin clung tightly to the jagged bones protruding through its patched fur. Hardly enough meat to satisfy a dog, much less a hall full of starving refugees, but this was too golden an opportunity to let pass.
Her bow creaked slightly as she drew back the string, and the deer's ears twitched slightly and it looked around in a panic, ready to flee at the first sight of danger. Without wasting a moment, she loosed the arrow, burying it deeply into the pitiful creature's neck. It let out a blood curdling bellow and fell to the ground, its legs flailing in terror as it tried to make a run for it, to escape with whatever bit of its life remained. Hana sprang to her feet and made to pursue the deer. Even if it didn't manage to feed anyone, she had to retrieve her spent arrow at least; iron was simply too precious a commodity anymore to waste on a failed hunt.
Reaching the top of the nearby ridge she caught sight of the deer again, limping weakly toward a slow moving stream, its useless legs collapsing beneath it in exhaustion. It struggled, groaning in pain before it fell finally, weakened and nearly dead, into a silent heap. Hana clenched her fists suddenly in elation and made toward the carcass, dropping her bow behind her.
"Oh, oh, ooh..." She whispered under her breath, approaching the deer and grabbing it by the ears to examine its head and neck. Its tongue lolled limply from its partially open mouth, and its wide eyes were far set and glassy. It was dead. With a sigh of relief, she grasped the small, golden amulet at her neck and pressed it to her lips in thanks.
"...oh, yes. T-thank you." She whispered again, dragging the deer onto its back, and giving it another look up and down. "You really aren't much to look at are you?"
Getting to her feet, she lay the deer across her shoulders and carried it back to the top of the ridge. Sunrise was upon her now, and her cover of darkness slowly fading. There hadn't been sighting of Dominion agents in the area for weeks, but it was certainly no reason to become lax and careless. So much as a trace of her presence on the surface could betray them all and lead to ruin. She tread lightly, careful to take back all of her weaponry as not to give any indication there were more than scavenging animals at Helgen, and once again disappeared into the dark, and dank ruins of the fort; uncertain of the next time she might have the privilege of seeing the sun.
Hana was cautious not to let too many see what she had brought back into the fort, lest she incite a stampede at the prospect of food. Hollow eyes glanced upward, and narrowed in longing at the deer carcass at her back, but none were bold enough to reach for it though a few followed quietly behind her in hopes of getting a portion for themselves. She covered her mouth with her hand and coughed roughly as the putrid air of the halls flooded her lungs, a stark difference to the cool air outside. The stench of death and decay hung heavily along the corridors and bore down relentlessly. It was nauseatingly strong, but she knew sooner or later she'd grow accustomed to the smell again, and would hardly notice it. Hardly.
Entering the small galley, she lay the deer across an empty table. Its head lolled, almost comically to one side and hung limply over the edge, dangling slightly. She grabbed hold of the arrow at its throat and wrenched it free with a sickening, unpleasant crunch and wiped it clean on the hem of her tattered leather vest.
"Look what I managed..." She called toward the far end of the room, where a few shadows dances against the mossy wall. Her voice was a mixture of pride, and solemn disappointment.