Elves, Bandits, Cultists, and Dragons (Skyrim Fanfiction)

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It is a bad time in the province of Skyrim. The Altermarie Dominion, known to many as High Elves, is recovering from a brutal war with the Imperials. Our hero, Runaan, is a Wood Elf archer, assassin, and thief. He has gone to Whiterun in search of work. Jarl Balgruuf, the leader of Whiterun, is mad about a group of bandits harassing the townspeople. “Go to Red Eagle Redoubt and kill the bandits,” he tells Runaan. “Bring me their leader’s head, and I will give you a house in Whiterun and grant you a weapon from my personal armory.” 

“It will be done, my Jarl,” Runaan replies. He deals with the bandits quickly, and soon he comes upon their leader, Rigel Strong Arm. 

“Start running so I can stab you in the back!” Rigel yells. Eight steel arrows fill Rigel and she collapses, dead.

 Wonderful, Rigel’s stolen goods are now mine, Runaan thinks to himself. Our hero makes his way back to Whiterun to find Jarl Balgruuf. 

“You have done us a great service, o warrior. As promised, I grant you this bow from my personal armory and my land in Whiterun,” the great Jarl says to Runaan. 

“Thank you my Jarl,” Runaan replies. “My liege, do you have an Arcane Enchanter that I might purchase for my house?”

“Certainly, my friend. That will be 3000 gold coins,” Jarl replies. Runaan makes the payment and decides that the city, full of heroes, has no need for one more. While wandering through a forest nearby, he stumbles upon the ancient ruins of Volunruud. 

Inside the ruin, he stops at a crossroad and chooses to turn left. On the way, he finds a chest and loots it. Suddenly, he hears the sound of dry limbs. A draugr is making its way to him! He pulls out his bow sword. As he pelts the draugr he notices how strong it is and realizes that he should just drop the treasure and gold and run out of the tomb. He then notices that more draugr are starting to wake up from there crypts and shamble toward him. Crap, my bow is not strong enough to deal with these draugr, Runaan thinks. He stabs the last draugr with an arrow and then rushes out of the tomb into the Skyrim’s frozen tundra. He slinks back to Whiterun and enters his house for the first time, taking it all in; even the Arcane Enchanter he so recently purchased is there. Well, the good thing is that I was able to find some dragon scales on my way back. He resolves to make himself a dragonbone bow.  

Suddenly, five strange men barge in, wearing some rather unique looking armor. The armor that looks like it is made of shell and bones grafted together. As the man walks, the armor scraps and clinks on the ground.  “You, are you the dragonborn?” one man asks. 

“That is I, the dragonborn of legends,” Runaan replies, a little shocked at the question. 

“You are a false legend,” another replies. “Men, we must kill this fake dragonborn so that lord Miraak can arrive.” Runaan is puzzled. “Why can’t Miraak come when I am here?” he asks. 

“You infidel, your power is growing and Lord Miraak needs you out of this world before he can put his plan into action.” The cultist snarls at him.

Runaan rolls his eyes and pulls out his ebony sword. “Shame,” he mutters to himself, “it doesn’t even have any enchantments.” 

Things look bleak for our hero as the cultist prepares to cast a fire spell. “Talos, guide my soul to Sovng-,” he begins as his prayer is cut off, along with his head. 

“What!? Who!?” Runaan begins. 

“Hello Runaan, my name is Lydia,” a female voice says. “I am your housecarl and I have a gift for you. From the Jarl.” She hands him armor and weapons. “This dragonscale armor will make you more sneaky and a better marksman. The bow is made out of a rare form of ice called Stalhrim,” she explains. “It has been infused with chaos and ice.” She passes him a few hundred ebony arrows. 

Runaan rushes to White River Watch to test out his bow. There, he clears the bandit lair with ease, feeling invincible in his armor.

Runaan walks back to his house, which he has dubbed “The Lookout.” He immediately begins to enchant his gear. While he is halfway through putting enchantments on his dragonscale chestplate, he gets some unexpected visitors. 

“Runaan, we need to ask you a few questions,” a strange voice says.  He spins around and comes face to face with what appears to be four Thalmor agents. “Hello Runaan, my name is Ancarion,” says the lead Thalmor. “Do you have any information on the Talos worshipers?” 

“Talos?” Runaan asks, “why would you think I worship talos? I am an elf, he is a human god.” 

“I will ask you once more.  Do you have any information on any Talos worshippers?” Anacrion’s tone is harsher this time.

“No, not at all,” Runaan replies. 

“Liar!” one of the Thalmor agents yells while slamming his fist against the wall, causing some potions to clatter to the ground, spilling their colourful contents on the floor. 

“You don’t want to be on our bad side, Runaan,” Ancarion utters. 

“Don’t threaten me! Look, I fought alongside you during the great war,” Runaan snaps back. 

“And you fought well, but we need to find those worshippers. You will find us if you remember anything,” Acarion says. He calls out to his guards and they hurry out. After hunting some game he decides to journey to the nearby town of Stonehills.

Runaan finds a map on the town board, giving directions to the ruins of Ustengrav. “I think that the founder of the Grey Beards is entombed in there,” he mutters while ripping the page off its pin. “With any luck I can find some loot there,” he says. “Hopefully my bow is strong enough to deal with whatever awaits me inside the tomb.” 

He ambles through the main way of the tomb, nonchalantly, clearing draugr and frostbite spiders until he finds the main burial chamber. “Ugh, I hate spiders.  Too many eyes,” he remarks. 

After clearing some more draugr and spiders, he finally makes it to the main burial chamber. He smiles while looking at the gilded tomb of Jurgen Windcaller and proceeds to search the room for anything that would be of use. He finds nothing. He walks out of the tomb and into the frozen tundra of Skyrim, ready for his next adventure.

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