FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“The road home is long and difficult. Many believe that they have finished the journey when they make it back to their old life. When they sleep in their old bed and walk the old halls. This is but the first and the easiest step. They do not realize it, but they have merely brought the war home with them. The truly hard part is learning to let go. Only then may a soldier truly return home." - Kharnrae of clan Kyne, third warking of Lilmoth, E1, Year 133

The walk to Riverwood had taken the group until mid-afternoon the next day. They arrived exhausted and looking like they had just walked out of a warzone. That wasn't very far from the truth; they had considered bathing in the river but ultimately agreed that getting to a town first would be best.

Riverwood was a small village built up around a lumber mill on the river. There was a small, horribly useless wall along the road. Past it was a small open-air blacksmith with an attached home on one side of the street. The other had a large inn and a trader's shop. Small roads led behind the Inn and the shop to a small area of farmland dotted with small houses.

Talrikir felt a sense of relief wash over him. It wasn't much of a town but it was still the first real sense of security he had gotten since waking up in this era. Muscles that had been tensed, ready for a fight to break out at any moment began to loosen up as he breathed out.

That feeling was shattered when a small nord child yelled before running between the buildings. “Imperials! Ralof hide! The soldiers are here."

Hadvar tensed up as well, his hand at his sword. “If that traitor Ralof is here, we'll have to deal with him. Come on."

The other two didn't say anything as he led them into town. They stopped at the blacksmith's forge first. A huge nord with a craftsman's build was grinding an edge into what Talrikir assessed to be a half-decent blade, for iron anyway. He looked up before going back to his work.

A second later he looked at them again. This time he dropped the blade as he stood to hurry over and envelope Hadvar in a crushing hug. “Nephew! It's been a long time. I'd heard rumors that Helgen was destroyed. Thought you might have gone with it. It's good to see you."

He released Hadvar before giving an appraising look to the other two. “Friends of Hadvar's are welcome here anytime. Dinner will be served soon. Venison Stew. Please, please make yourselves at home."

Heracles grunted at that, some approximation of thanks Talrikir assumed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hadvar spoke first. “That would be great uncle. But we should clean up first, and make sure it's safe. Did Ralof come back into town?"

“Aye, you'd best clean up. That boy looked almost as banged up as you lot. Hey! Wait!" He called out as Hadvar began to march towards a small shack on the riverside next to the mill. “Agh dammit. Come, help me stop this. No sense having them fight here."

Talrikir and Heracles followed the smith after Hadvar.

“Sorry to get you involved in this. My name's Alvor. Those two boys grew up together you know, closest friends you ever saw." He scowled. “Then this damn war started. It's happening everywhere, friends and family turned enemies to each other. What a waste. And over what? Which head wears a crown? "

When they got down to the river they heard a heated argument.

“You should have never come back here Ralof!"

“And you should have never betrayed Skyrim. How could you side against your own people?"

“I stand with the only ones who can save Skyrim. You're just too blind to see it. Ulfric is tearing our home apart, and you're helping."

“Boys! Stop this. You shouldn't be fighting. You used to be such good friends." The last voice was a woman's.

They came around the side of the mill to see a small empty area between the mill and what appeared to be a small shack. There was a small campfire for cooking, and several stumps laid out around it for eating. In the middle of the space, Hadvar and Ralof were shouting, their weapons drawn. Meanwhile, an older nord woman attempted to calm them. Several of the mill workers had gathered to watch from a distance.

Ralof turned out to be the most stereotypically nordic looking man Talrikir had ever seen, with a stocky build, rippling with muscle, blond hair, and blue eyes. Add in the axe and the countenance of a berserker about to spill blood and he was a dead ringer for the marauders the tales described.

He was the next to shout. “ You're a fool Hadvar. Skyrim deserves to lead itself, and Ulfric will make that happen. The Empire is weak, bending its knee to the elves showed us all that."

“The Empire is the only force that can fight the Thalmor, but we can't do that divided. Ulfric is only making things worse!"

“You damn traitor! I'll-". Ralof took two steps forward before stopping. An arrow pinned his boot to the earth. “What the hell?"

Talrikir had drawn his bow, two more arrows rested loosely in his fingers. “If either of you tries to start a fight right now I'll put an arrow in you both and call it a night that way. Put your damn weapons down."

They lowered their weapons mollified. The woman promptly took a turn smacking them upside the head with a wooden spoon. “Good to see someone else talking sense. That war will stay outside of our town, you hear me." They both nodded, with the countenance of kicked puppies. “Good."

She turned to them next. “Hello, I'm deeply sorry we met like this. My name is Gerdur. I own the mill, well myself and my husband Hod. He's out with some of the men selling lumber in Whiterun."

Talrikir said, “Nice to meet you, name's Talrikir."

“Anyone who can put a stop to those two fighting is a friend of mine. Anyway, dinner's about ready, so if it's alright we'll excuse ourselves to wash up and eat. I'll be spending most of the night trying to talk sense into my fool brother. There's no sense in dragging that awful war into your own home."

Gerdur and Alvor each went to their respective family and pushed them back, the two may have sheathed their weapons, but they still looked ready to fight at a moment's notice.

Sometime later the original party was seated with Alvor to eat. They had been introduced to Sigrid, Alvor's wife, and Dorthe their daughter. The table lacked sufficient seating for 6, so Heracles and Talrikir ended up standing against the wall of the small house.

Sigrid was the first to speak. “It's good to see you well Hadvar. We worry about you when you're away."

“I'll be alright. Legion makes you strong. Keeps friends at your back. Even when things go bad.", Talrikir didn't miss the glance Alvor passed over the two of them. They must have thought he was in this legion.

The meal was mostly quiet, with small inquiries by Hadvar about the goings on while he was away aside. Neither Heracles nor Talrikir was very talkative. When the meal was finished Alvor was the first to speak.

“I'm sorry to say that we don't have room for all of you to sleep here. I can pay for a pair of rooms at the inn for a night. After that, you'll be on your own." He passed a few gold coins to each of the two warriors and gave them directions to the inn.

They said their goodbyes and left. On their way, they came across a general store with a battered down door, and a pair of nords arguing just outside.

The woman had a determined scowl set upon her face, and her fists clenched tight. The man on the other hand held his arms crossed over his chest, a look of certainty on the matter at hand.

“Well, one of us has to do something!", She yelled.

“I said no!" No theatrics, no adventures, and no thief chasing!"

She crossed her arms and asked, “Well what are you going to do then, huh? Well, let's hear it?"

The man shook his head. “We are done talking about this." He turned to step back inside before seeing the pair watching them. “Oh, sorry you had to hear that." He stepped over the cracked beam of the old door before waving them in. “Please come in, come in. I promise we still have plenty to sell and coin for any items you wish to get rid of."

Heracles said, “What is this about thieves?"

She smirked at the man, I told you so written all across her face.

He sighed, “You heard that huh? Yeah, some thieves knocked the door down and robbed us. They took most of our potions and one other thing; a golden ornament in the shape of a dragon's claw. Family Heirloom. The potions are unfortunate, but we can survive the loss. It's the claw that hurts to lose. Ma an Pa left it to us with the shop when they passed."

Talrikir nudged Heracles. They were both decent fighters, and they did need work. Heracles nodded.

“We could retrieve it for you.", If Talrikir wasn't mistaken the argonian seemed quite interested in the job. Perhaps he was a mercenary, used to this kind of work. All the better, he figured, to have a partner who was experienced in these matters.

The man eyed them both, and their equipment, for a moment before he spoke. “You two look capable enough; very well then. They ran off to their hideout in Bleak Falls Barrow; pretty close to here. You can see it from town even. Here, it's not much, but I still have a couple of healing potions. If you can get the claw back I'll pay you well. I still have gold left over from our last shipment."

Talrikir took the potions. “Don't worry about a thing, we'll get it back for you, and teach those bandits a lesson while we're at it. We'll be leaving at first light tomorrow."

They said their goodbyes and headed over to the inn. Inside was a nord man built like a bear standing behind a u-shaped counter. In the middle of the room was a pair of long tables set around a similarly long fire pit. The pit was unlit at the moment, though it was filled with wood.

They approached the counter. “What can I do for you, looking to get some drinks; or hear the local rumors? If you need a room It's three coins each. You don't get much more than a bed but it's soft and warm."

Heracles said, “Two rooms if you would."

“Six gold." They passed over the coins and were handed simple iron keys. He pointed each of them to a door on opposite sides of the inn. “There's your rooms, I'll kick you out at noon tomorrow if you haven't left yet."

Talrik'f was tired. Drekfah had tripped during the evening run; the whole formation had been forced to clean the grounds as a result. The effort had lasted well into the night. Of course, they still had to get up early in the morning the next day.

He quickly dressed into the chainmail vest and leather armor of the Lilmoth detachment and reported for his watch for the day. It was to his surprise when the captain pulled him aside and gave him a sealed set of orders with a noble crest.

“Son, I don't know what they want from you but be careful. You're a good soldier. Don't make the rich idiots up there angry. I want to see you coming back on your own two feet, not in a box."

“Yes, sir."Talrik'f saluted smartly before finding someplace quiet to read the scroll. Inside he found instructions signed by a noble named Majiimar that he was to be present on one of the higher terraces in a short while.

He didn't have time to loiter about if these orders were real, so he stuffed them into one of his pockets and started looking for the place.

When he finally managed to make it to the meeting spot, his tablet informed him that he was just barely on time. A few more minutes and he would have been in quite a lot of trouble. He scanned his surroundings for any clues as to what he could be doing up here.

It was incredible. There were flowers in the most colorful arrangements growing in special pots set into the walls and the balcony of the wide terrace. In place of a floor was a perfectly trimmed layer of grass. There was a small selection of blunted weapons, padding, and a few practice dummies in what looked like a small equipment area. It was the most elaborate training arena he could have ever imagined.

Talrik'f was standing in the center of the space when someone came in behind him.

“Oh! Hello there. I..didn't expect to see anyone here." The voice sounded oddly familiar. When he turned around he knew why. It was Kzaarae. The prince…

What's he doing here? “Your majesty! Hello. You must be the one who summoned me then. If it's not rude to ask…Why am I here?"

The prince flushed a bit. “Errr, I'm not sure. The only one who should be here is the sparring partner that Majiimar was getting for me to practice wi- Ooooh."

Talrik'f raised one eyebrow, and his ears perked up. “Majiimar, that's the man who signed my orders. They just told me to be here though." Talrik'f was relieved to at least know what he had been assigned for. Still, something seemed off. Kzaarae seemed more hesitant now.

“Ah, yeah. I bet he did." He muttered under his breath for a moment before breathing out hard. Kzaarae opened his mouth to speak when another man walked into the space.

He was stocky, for a lilmothiit, which is to say he was what would be considered wiry for a man or mer. Still, he carried himself like a warrior who had seen everything that could be seen. His colors were a sort of patchy mix of black, brown, and white, almost like layered spots. The thing that really set him apart, however, were the eyes. They were practically frozen, like a pale blue ring of frost, blankly assessing everyone in sight, and finding them wanting.

“Who in the hell let a con'screept in here? Let alone a mandatory recruit!"

Kzaarae stepped in front of me to speak but was cut off immediately. “If I wanted you to excuse him I would have said so, let the man speak for himself." Kzaarae wilted and stepped aside. That was rude. Talrik'f felt his fists clench a bit, and his hackles rise.

Nevertheless, he needed to respond. The man wore armor denoting him as a captain in the royal guard, this was not someone he could ignore. “I'm Talrik'f. I came here on orders. The orders merely specified that I be here at this time. Kzaa-" He stopped himself when the man glared at him. “The prince said that he was looking for a sparring partner. I'd imagine I was sent here for that, sir."

“And what makes you think you deserve to spar with the prince? Even more incredible is that you think you deserve to be taught by Kahnlee." The man advanced on Talrik'f as he spoke from there. “I am the most experienced trainer this kingdom has, bar none. Why should I train you?" Kahnlee was inches away now and no less intimidating for having to look up slightly to meet Talrik'f's eyes.

“I am merely following orders, Sir."

“Very well then, get out of my yard. That's an order you can follow."

Talrik'f moved to leave, but he stopped when he noticed Kzaarae's disappointed expression. If he wants me here… Maybe. “Sir, what would it take for you to train me?" Kzaarae perked up, though he looked concerned now.

“Train you? Why would I do that?"

Talrik'f had a bad idea brewing. But what was a lilmothiit if not a font of bad ideas and a bit of luck? “I have a wager for you."

Kahnlee was smiling now, but it was all teeth. “Oh, do you now? Well then, let's hear it. I need a good laugh."

“I bet I can beat you in a duel; no fortifications, first to entrapment or blood wins. If I win, you agree to train me."

He laughed for several seconds, “Wait, you're serious. How do you expect to win a duel with me boy? You're unarmed."

“That's my problem, not yours."

“You know, I like your attitude; it'll be a shame when I run you through with this rapier, boy. If I win and you survive, I expect you to stay away from the prince. He doesn't need to be associated with the likes of you."

“Deal."

Talrik'f barely dodged the first lunging stab. In the following second, he evaded three more. The man hadn't even bothered to respond.

He dodged another vicious series of stabbing motions and a wide slash from Kahnlee's blade before he recovered enough to back away and out of his reach.

“Already retreating, a sound move. Smarter would have been to leave when I told you to."

His eyes bulged when Kahnlee's off-hand glowed with magic and sent a volley of ice shards in his direction. He dodged, only noticing a few seconds later how each of the dagger-sized shards had burrowed fully under the ground. Yikes.

Talrik'f grit his teeth and ran at Kahnlee.

“I suppose getting it over with quickly has its merits, this is going to be messy." Khanlee reared back his blade, ready to strike when Talrik'f got close.

Talrik'f instead reared back his own hand and thrust out as a steel spear materialized in his grip. Kahnlee reacted quickly, stepping back and bringing his weapon to guard.

Talrik'f stopped where he stood, well out of Kahnlee's reach with a huge grin.

“Why are you just standing there?"

“I believe it is customary to stop fighting when one has won a duel."

“What do you-" That was when he noticed it; the faint smear of red on the spear's tip. He glanced down to see a glancing cut to his side. The wound was nonlethal. Not even a hindrance to continue fighting, and yet.

It was blood.

Talrik'f dismissed his spear, the weapon dissolving into motes of magicka that quickly faded away.

Kahnlee slowly slumped over until he was sitting on the grassy ground, his rapier limply resting in one hand. “You beat me. With a trick and magic I've never even heard of…but you beat me."

Talrik'f asked, “So does this mean that You'll train me…with the prince?"

Kahnlee snapped back to himself, sheathing the weapon as he stood and scowled. “I said I would train you if I lost and I did. I will not be training a con'screept. You're too skilled as it is to leave you where you are. Get your things together. When we are finished here, you will be assigned quarters in the royal guard's barracks."

Kzaarae approached from the sidelines. “Good job! I never would have thought someone could beat him. And that magic, how did you just make a spear out of nothing like that! It wasn't like any normal conjuration! And it was way faster too!"

Talrik'f flushed. “It wasn't that great."

Kahnlee put a stop to their talk. “You may talk later, for now….Dodge!"

They split apart in opposite directions as a flurry of blunted ice projectiles volleyed between them. A second later both were struck by larger shards to the skull.

“I said that I would train you. And I will. Today's lesson is dodging. For each time you get hit you will be doing twenty minutes of sword forms followed by a lap around the castle grounds."

They scrambled to avoid the hail of ice magic sent their way by the demented instructor. Talrik'f had to admit it was the most fun he had had in quite some time.