Wolfbane
Why change the past when you can own this day?
HEY GUYS. This is my first fan fiction and I'm looking forward to embarking on this journey with you I welcome any praise, comments, advice that doesn't make you look like a tool and anything else you'd like to see! This is loosely based on the game and might feature a special character of mine. Hope you guys stick with me and enjoy.
Chapter one: Fire and Ash
Long icy fingers point to the sky, accenting the dark skyline with glistening snow. Longer branches bowing under the weight of the snowy white masses produced an eerie feeling of ever-lingering sadness as dusk sets in. The white ground crunched beneath steel feet as he continued to walk in the snow covered forest. Green and brown of a season pass have since disappeared and given birth to the cold. Blue waters become hidden traps amongst the ground. His patrol has been given typical foot paths for the past couple weeks, and it seemed like the end was nowhere in sight just as the snowfall.
“We’ve been at this for weeks. There’s not a damn thing here. Surely we would've seen signs?" the complaining soldier was looking around and sighing.
“Quit your belly aching. Would you rather be out fighting in the cold?” the soldier smacked the other on the head.
“At this point, yes. I would rather have someone to kill then march through the same damned forest!” The small and lanky man continued to belly ache as Ardin begin to roll his eyes at the very men he was on patrol with.
“Why don’t both of you fools shut it before you draw attention to us.” Ardin clung to whatever warmth he had as the chill of the wind try to pry at his steel encased chest. Unlike the men behind him, he tends to ignore the conditions and focus on the task at hand.There was also no need for whining over the chilly teeth around them. He shook the thought away, gripping his fur cloak while the others behind him continued their talks. His eyes darted back and forth scanning the lines of trees and rocks for signs of any disturbance; cracked limbs, impressions in the snow, animals running from a small area, or even startled birds. There has to be stock in the claims of Stormcloak movement. Although as he thought back, it could have said that there was movement of some kind in a general sense. The Wolf was on the hunt, and the prey was smart.
Moments like these reminds him of the times where he would hunt with a Bosmeri girl by the name of Avia. The two had met when they found themselves locking eyes when they happened to join the same band of warriors. It wasn’t long before the two enkindled a love from a pure friendship.After their camp was slaughtered and the foes dealt with they had lost contact aside from letters here and there. Where they stood as a whole was anyone’s guess. It been too long since they last spoke.
There were still absolutely no signs. It was almost too clean for there to be reports of recent traffic. Maybe whatever was causing trouble had been dealt with. As he was turning to order them around, a wooden shaft came darting out and the iron of the arrow went through one of the soldiers eyes, making him scream as he was aware for before dying. As fast as the first arrow came, a second matched the speed, getting the soldier to the right of Ardin in the belly. Whatever shooting at him was, it continued to sneak and was in no mood to show itself. Now, it was only him and the deadly trees around him, watching every leaf move as he prepares for the next shot. His fingers gripped the handle of his sword as he backed away from the trees in front of his view. If this is the work of bandits, then they are either getting smarter, or he was dealing with mercenaries. Either way, he was getting shot at.
For a moment there was stillness; No animals scurrying with the wind whirring, no birds calling to their mates before flying off. There was just the heavy silence. Then the rapid crunching of snow began followed by a scream and the slicing of steel. A steel great sword swiped passed him like a great wind before he drove his elbow into the face connected to it. His sword was withdrawn, making the fur cloak swing off and producing a wall of snow. What the hells was going on? His mind was split between the situation at hand and not getting split himself. Now there was staring not one but two fur clad bandits, clenching steel weapons. The two circled him for a moment as if they were the wolf, not him before following up with two matching swings.causing him to jump back making a skid in the white ground. One thing about bandits is that they don’t time anything and never calculate their strikes. Ardin spun under the horizontal death dealer as he clawed at snow and threw it in the face of the dagger wielding Redguard who clenched at her face before having a sword through her like a charred skeever on a spit.
“I’ll kill you if I have to” The other bandit swore as the lifeless body of his comrade was pooling in blood like cutting into raw meat. The orc connected a kick as Ardin tried to recover from the first kill. By this time the arrows started to fly his way, making him weave to avoid it. This was getting on his nerves. He circled around the orc to where he was in the line of fire. Sometimes in battle you have to gamble. Ardin timed the next shot, moving his torso to where it grazed his side and went into the Orc's arm. He followed a slice to the chest before he finally spotted the vermin in the trees. All he needed to figure out was how to pull him out of the damned green ward. The screams must have alerted the others because now there was six more Legionnaires. For what good it did. As more men came to his aid, the same happened with the bandits.
“Make sure we leave some alive. We need to sate the fears of the people and have something to haul back with us to Helgen; Captain’s orders. Will someone get the bastard in the tree?” Ardin pointed a numb hand up at the tree from the ground. The fighting ensued; the clash of steel created sparks, bringing to heat to the otherwise cold environment. The imperial legions were known to be some of the best in skirmishes, often using teamwork in place of sheer brutality. The archers took their place behind the fight, providing support as both sides began swinging steel and iron weapons into each other as if they were a butcher preparing the day's meat.
The next day they had arrived at the waste of a city. The people of Helgen shouting and booing at the passing carriages made him shake his head while the ones with their mouths unbound began to talk and amongst themselves. How Helgen looked before, Ardin could barely recall. Now it was home to a crumbling watch tower, a few sparse homes, and now what he assumed would be the prisoners' final resting place. Some would be sent home to their families while others would simply be burned. The thought of burning the unfortunate souls did not sit well with him.
“Quiet back there.” The imperial driver snarled at the his imprisoned charge. He acted as if they were there to do him a favor and make his life easier. Gods damn them if they are acting like they're about to lose their own life at the hand a of a giant, bloody axe while they are bound and away from their families. How dare they act scared and chatter with fear amongst them.
“They are afraid of what is to come,” Ardin gave the driver a glare as they finally stopped. One by one, the doomed men hopped out, like funneling fish in a net before you pull them out to club and gut them. He took his spot next to the captain sending each prisoner to the block almost taking a sick enjoyment. Most were either Stormcloaks or common bandits, both deserve the block. Being a Nord, Ardin agrees with the ideal of fighting for Skyrim, but the rebels don’t see the true threat that is developing. What that threat is, he can’t mutter around certain people.
“Next prisoner,” Her hands rested on her hips as she snarled at the prisoners
“Captain, he’s merely a thief. His crime is stealing a horse. Cut off a hand if need be.” Ardin threw his hand as the horse thief was trembling in whatever clothes he had on.
“I said next prisoner”
“By your orders captain.” Hadvar continued with the list as Ardin shook his head when their eyes met. All of a sudden the man sprinted as fast as he could, making Ardin turn to stare at him getting an arrow in the back. Dirt was kicked up as his body made a thud in front of a house, a child screaming in the window. Was this so glorious? Men running and risking getting punctured by an arrow because they would rather risk getting killed over something small like thievery? What about the dropping of heads just outside a family’s home? Next to the block were the group his patrol picked up. The damn bandit up in the tree was a scrawny imperial boy, no more than ten and eight. Face caked with mud and a defiant grin on his face; wasted youth. The boy laughed hysterically as he felt the foot of the captain on his back pushing him down to the wooden block.
“Any last words scum?” Colovian accents were always so foreign. Even to him, and he's been in service for a while. Damned imperials and their accents.
“You and I are the same, imperial; we both kill, and we enjoy the pain and misery. You await an open hand and a reward, I await a god that has no love for me. Get on with it, yeah? Putrid cu-“There was a large thunk of the axe as his head dropped. This went on for some time, getting more and more normal. Then came the final batch; A young bosmer almost reminding him of his once love along with more blue clad rebels. Why was a bosmer here? What is there in the harsh lands of Skyrim? His thoughts were broken by a large scream, distant, but loud. The screams were of another world, and of war. This was not a pained scream.
“What was that?” Tightening of bow strings could be heard.the archers narrowed their eyes and listened to the sounds around them as they listened to the faraway encroaching yells.
“It’s nothing.” This captain was damned determined to lop the head off of every prisoner. Nothing will stop her from executing . Then another scream came, getting closer every second. The sky around them swirled into a grey mass, making everyone stop for just a moment.
“I said, next prisoner!” again, the headsman was pulling his blade up, gripping the wood for the next swing. Ardin's eyes slammed shut as if it was his lover in the flesh. Expecting to see a dead wood elf, he opened his eyes to a totally new scene.
“What in oblivion is that?” He glanced through his black hair as people pointed to the entity.
“Dragon!” The blonde Stormcloak woman shouted towards the watchtower behind the headsman. Upon that watchtower resides a beast; Black scales gleaming with death with teeth and claws as long as a man’s blade and black leather bound wings that could block the sun landed upon all the men, Glaring into him, conjuring every fear he once had and will have. Before he knew it,a rush of fire came down onto them, making him jump to the side and see the Bosmer run off. For a moment he was frozen as soldiers began scrambling to defensive positions. The fear came back, and it stopped him; the fear and memories of the fire that took his home and his family. The smells of ash and burnt bodies caused him to throw up from the mixture. He had to get up, he had to keep moving.
Chapter one: Fire and Ash
Long icy fingers point to the sky, accenting the dark skyline with glistening snow. Longer branches bowing under the weight of the snowy white masses produced an eerie feeling of ever-lingering sadness as dusk sets in. The white ground crunched beneath steel feet as he continued to walk in the snow covered forest. Green and brown of a season pass have since disappeared and given birth to the cold. Blue waters become hidden traps amongst the ground. His patrol has been given typical foot paths for the past couple weeks, and it seemed like the end was nowhere in sight just as the snowfall.
“We’ve been at this for weeks. There’s not a damn thing here. Surely we would've seen signs?" the complaining soldier was looking around and sighing.
“Quit your belly aching. Would you rather be out fighting in the cold?” the soldier smacked the other on the head.
“At this point, yes. I would rather have someone to kill then march through the same damned forest!” The small and lanky man continued to belly ache as Ardin begin to roll his eyes at the very men he was on patrol with.
“Why don’t both of you fools shut it before you draw attention to us.” Ardin clung to whatever warmth he had as the chill of the wind try to pry at his steel encased chest. Unlike the men behind him, he tends to ignore the conditions and focus on the task at hand.There was also no need for whining over the chilly teeth around them. He shook the thought away, gripping his fur cloak while the others behind him continued their talks. His eyes darted back and forth scanning the lines of trees and rocks for signs of any disturbance; cracked limbs, impressions in the snow, animals running from a small area, or even startled birds. There has to be stock in the claims of Stormcloak movement. Although as he thought back, it could have said that there was movement of some kind in a general sense. The Wolf was on the hunt, and the prey was smart.
Moments like these reminds him of the times where he would hunt with a Bosmeri girl by the name of Avia. The two had met when they found themselves locking eyes when they happened to join the same band of warriors. It wasn’t long before the two enkindled a love from a pure friendship.After their camp was slaughtered and the foes dealt with they had lost contact aside from letters here and there. Where they stood as a whole was anyone’s guess. It been too long since they last spoke.
There were still absolutely no signs. It was almost too clean for there to be reports of recent traffic. Maybe whatever was causing trouble had been dealt with. As he was turning to order them around, a wooden shaft came darting out and the iron of the arrow went through one of the soldiers eyes, making him scream as he was aware for before dying. As fast as the first arrow came, a second matched the speed, getting the soldier to the right of Ardin in the belly. Whatever shooting at him was, it continued to sneak and was in no mood to show itself. Now, it was only him and the deadly trees around him, watching every leaf move as he prepares for the next shot. His fingers gripped the handle of his sword as he backed away from the trees in front of his view. If this is the work of bandits, then they are either getting smarter, or he was dealing with mercenaries. Either way, he was getting shot at.
For a moment there was stillness; No animals scurrying with the wind whirring, no birds calling to their mates before flying off. There was just the heavy silence. Then the rapid crunching of snow began followed by a scream and the slicing of steel. A steel great sword swiped passed him like a great wind before he drove his elbow into the face connected to it. His sword was withdrawn, making the fur cloak swing off and producing a wall of snow. What the hells was going on? His mind was split between the situation at hand and not getting split himself. Now there was staring not one but two fur clad bandits, clenching steel weapons. The two circled him for a moment as if they were the wolf, not him before following up with two matching swings.causing him to jump back making a skid in the white ground. One thing about bandits is that they don’t time anything and never calculate their strikes. Ardin spun under the horizontal death dealer as he clawed at snow and threw it in the face of the dagger wielding Redguard who clenched at her face before having a sword through her like a charred skeever on a spit.
“I’ll kill you if I have to” The other bandit swore as the lifeless body of his comrade was pooling in blood like cutting into raw meat. The orc connected a kick as Ardin tried to recover from the first kill. By this time the arrows started to fly his way, making him weave to avoid it. This was getting on his nerves. He circled around the orc to where he was in the line of fire. Sometimes in battle you have to gamble. Ardin timed the next shot, moving his torso to where it grazed his side and went into the Orc's arm. He followed a slice to the chest before he finally spotted the vermin in the trees. All he needed to figure out was how to pull him out of the damned green ward. The screams must have alerted the others because now there was six more Legionnaires. For what good it did. As more men came to his aid, the same happened with the bandits.
“Make sure we leave some alive. We need to sate the fears of the people and have something to haul back with us to Helgen; Captain’s orders. Will someone get the bastard in the tree?” Ardin pointed a numb hand up at the tree from the ground. The fighting ensued; the clash of steel created sparks, bringing to heat to the otherwise cold environment. The imperial legions were known to be some of the best in skirmishes, often using teamwork in place of sheer brutality. The archers took their place behind the fight, providing support as both sides began swinging steel and iron weapons into each other as if they were a butcher preparing the day's meat.
The next day they had arrived at the waste of a city. The people of Helgen shouting and booing at the passing carriages made him shake his head while the ones with their mouths unbound began to talk and amongst themselves. How Helgen looked before, Ardin could barely recall. Now it was home to a crumbling watch tower, a few sparse homes, and now what he assumed would be the prisoners' final resting place. Some would be sent home to their families while others would simply be burned. The thought of burning the unfortunate souls did not sit well with him.
“Quiet back there.” The imperial driver snarled at the his imprisoned charge. He acted as if they were there to do him a favor and make his life easier. Gods damn them if they are acting like they're about to lose their own life at the hand a of a giant, bloody axe while they are bound and away from their families. How dare they act scared and chatter with fear amongst them.
“They are afraid of what is to come,” Ardin gave the driver a glare as they finally stopped. One by one, the doomed men hopped out, like funneling fish in a net before you pull them out to club and gut them. He took his spot next to the captain sending each prisoner to the block almost taking a sick enjoyment. Most were either Stormcloaks or common bandits, both deserve the block. Being a Nord, Ardin agrees with the ideal of fighting for Skyrim, but the rebels don’t see the true threat that is developing. What that threat is, he can’t mutter around certain people.
“Next prisoner,” Her hands rested on her hips as she snarled at the prisoners
“Captain, he’s merely a thief. His crime is stealing a horse. Cut off a hand if need be.” Ardin threw his hand as the horse thief was trembling in whatever clothes he had on.
“I said next prisoner”
“By your orders captain.” Hadvar continued with the list as Ardin shook his head when their eyes met. All of a sudden the man sprinted as fast as he could, making Ardin turn to stare at him getting an arrow in the back. Dirt was kicked up as his body made a thud in front of a house, a child screaming in the window. Was this so glorious? Men running and risking getting punctured by an arrow because they would rather risk getting killed over something small like thievery? What about the dropping of heads just outside a family’s home? Next to the block were the group his patrol picked up. The damn bandit up in the tree was a scrawny imperial boy, no more than ten and eight. Face caked with mud and a defiant grin on his face; wasted youth. The boy laughed hysterically as he felt the foot of the captain on his back pushing him down to the wooden block.
“Any last words scum?” Colovian accents were always so foreign. Even to him, and he's been in service for a while. Damned imperials and their accents.
“You and I are the same, imperial; we both kill, and we enjoy the pain and misery. You await an open hand and a reward, I await a god that has no love for me. Get on with it, yeah? Putrid cu-“There was a large thunk of the axe as his head dropped. This went on for some time, getting more and more normal. Then came the final batch; A young bosmer almost reminding him of his once love along with more blue clad rebels. Why was a bosmer here? What is there in the harsh lands of Skyrim? His thoughts were broken by a large scream, distant, but loud. The screams were of another world, and of war. This was not a pained scream.
“What was that?” Tightening of bow strings could be heard.the archers narrowed their eyes and listened to the sounds around them as they listened to the faraway encroaching yells.
“It’s nothing.” This captain was damned determined to lop the head off of every prisoner. Nothing will stop her from executing . Then another scream came, getting closer every second. The sky around them swirled into a grey mass, making everyone stop for just a moment.
“I said, next prisoner!” again, the headsman was pulling his blade up, gripping the wood for the next swing. Ardin's eyes slammed shut as if it was his lover in the flesh. Expecting to see a dead wood elf, he opened his eyes to a totally new scene.
“What in oblivion is that?” He glanced through his black hair as people pointed to the entity.
“Dragon!” The blonde Stormcloak woman shouted towards the watchtower behind the headsman. Upon that watchtower resides a beast; Black scales gleaming with death with teeth and claws as long as a man’s blade and black leather bound wings that could block the sun landed upon all the men, Glaring into him, conjuring every fear he once had and will have. Before he knew it,a rush of fire came down onto them, making him jump to the side and see the Bosmer run off. For a moment he was frozen as soldiers began scrambling to defensive positions. The fear came back, and it stopped him; the fear and memories of the fire that took his home and his family. The smells of ash and burnt bodies caused him to throw up from the mixture. He had to get up, he had to keep moving.
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