User:Aeon/My Mother, My Enemy
My Mother, My Enemy
The tale of a Dunmer and Imperial out for revenge against the darkness.
Daros's eyes shot open as he regained consciousness. He looked around, frantically searching for Lachance and his pawn Gogron. They had vanished. He scrambled to his feet and looked around the cave. There was nothing but rock and a faint light coming from the torch he had dropped when they had turned on him. Still weak from his wounds, he picked up his light source and limped back to the entrance of the cave. The cool Skyrim breeze greeted him as he came towards the entrance. His plan had fallen to pieces, but he now knew his true path. The Brotherhood would be reborn, and there would be a new head.
The landscape daunted him for the first few days, but he began to figure out his way south. Skyrim was an enormous land, filled with glaciers and mountains. Blizzards often made it difficult for him to see the sun and navigate. At one point, his camp came under attack from a werewolf. It was deep into the night, and he was lucky his senses awoke him just as it was about to strike, giving him time to dodge it. He ran for the rest of the night, the ancient forests seemingly endless in the moonlight. When day broke, it seemed to have lost track of him, so he continued on, tired, but eager to escape the monster completely. Lesser people would have never made one night in the wilderness, but Daros was no lesser mer. He was used to survival; after all, he had spent his entire childhood surviving the Ashlands.
Eventually, broken and beaten, he found himself wandering through a blizzard, about to collapse. Through the wall of snow, he could see muted lights in the distance, a sure sign of civilisation. Determined to survive, he began to use the last vestiges of his dampened strength to move towards the light. He would not give in; he would not allow Lachance to win. As he began to fade, hallucinations came. He began hearing voices, and the sounds of wild animals. He saw a flash, close by to him, but the source could not be seen through the storm. As his face hit the ice, and his life began to leave his body, he saw the figure of a woman running towards him. And then all went black.
Mina looked over the unconscious traveller, and called out to Uncle Halfen. He appeared to be a Dunmer, male, and wolf food if she didn't get him back to Whiterun quickly. "What you got? More o' the pack?" Halfen called out in his thick Nordic accent. "Traveller. Looks like he just passed out," Mina replied calmly, "We've got to get him back to the house."
Her uncle ran into view, and flinched at the figure. He had lived for many years, and was considered one of the most learned men in Skyrim by his peers, but he had never got over seeing what the snow could do to people." "Gonna take a lot 'o healin' to get this poor guy back up," he explained, "What the wildlife does to ya, I can help wi' that, fine. But snow gets in ya. Sometimes it never gets out." "We have to try!" Mina snapped back. She looked up at the old man, at the shocked expression on his wrinkled face. "I'm sorry Uncle, it's just... I need to save him. It's important to me that I don't leave anyone behind." "Fine, fine. I'll get the cart."
Mina flipped the figure around to see his face, and almost cried out. There was a fresh gash across his face, and he had become considerably paler and thinner, but she could see the face of Daros underneath them both. She reached down and inspected every inch of his visage to make sure, her long black hair flowing in the wind. "You alright?" Halfen asked as he approached with the cart. "You gone all pale. Cold gettin' to ya, or is he uglier than he looked from behind?" "It's... I think I know him," she replied, shaken. "But I haven't seen him in years. I didn't expect to see him ever again." She shook off the sympathy. "Come on. Help me get him on the cart. We have to head back to town. Now."
The small rocking cart headed back across the plains, towards the light of their hometown. As the snow cleared, she was once again treated to the sight of Whiterun. Set next to a large mountain range, the town was filled with beautiful and ancient stone architecture dating back to the time of the Falmer, and hundreds of wooden homes lit up the city from quite a distance. The Sun shone over the huge Chapel of Ysgramor, and reflected in the snowflakes to create a glistening picturesque view of the great city. If there was ever a place to take shelter from the snowstorms, it was here. They approached the roads leading into the town, and Daros began to groan. At least he was still ticking, Mina thought to herself.