Falkreath (Short Character Story)

Krist · April 2016

I don't remember Skyrim being so cold. I hardly can believe I even made it to Falkreath, but I am quite pleased I did. It seems familiar to me, even though I have never actually visited the small town, so far removed from Whiterun. The Nords here, however, seem like the family I left behind when I joined the Imperial Army, and because they are Nord, I am also pleased I do not have my Imperial armor anymore. I am thinking they would not have taken to it considering the happenings of late.

The inn I am in does not bear a name, and I did not bother to ask it. The owner and his wife are very polite and helpful, but then I am paying fairly well. I had earned some gold in the months of my trip across Cyrodiil. People are happy to give offerings when you cleanse their property of the many undead wandering around. I must admit I did not do it for completely unselfish reasons, I checked each undead that I dispatched, in hopes they were not Holly are her family. I wonder if the undead that I encountered near Bruma as I made my way here was part of the same large group that destroyed the farm? It seems the necromancers that control the undead sometimes lose that control, or maybe they die in one way or another, and the undead then wander almost, seemingly, with no real direction.

I was granted a special gift while in the service of the Fighter's Guild that has at times assisted me in killing the undead. We were dispatched to destroy some undead and their vampire ruler in, of all things, a temple of Merid-Nunda, or Meridia, as most call her. The priestess that hired us said she was an ancient goddess that was once Aedra, but I truly do not trust any of the Daedra. We did our job, though we lost two members in the process, and one other quit the guild. We received our pay and as we were leaving the priestess asked to speak with me. She said I was watched by Meridia, due to a cousin of mine that is devout and has prayed constantly for my protection. It could only be Johann that she speaks of, my mother's sister's son. Meridia was pleased at what we did, and for that I can call on her time to time to assist me. I did not know what that meant until undead were surrounding me and I called on her. A blazing sword came forth and smote them.
Even with this curse I still have access to such, yet at times it feels I am being torn apart when I do call on the sword I have come to know as Dawnbreaker, especially during a full moon when I can hardly keep the beast within me at bay.
Are they fighting over my soul? Why would such creatures care about one mortal? Is this Meridia the mystery lady that haunts my dreams at times? I have no answer to that.

Belwin found me here in Falkreath. I was not trying to hide from her in particular, but with such a curse I felt it better to remain alone. To be honest I was glad she found me. She told me she would not leave me, and explained to me what happened at Blue Road Keep. She told me I saved her from the soldiers, even though I was turned, and felt I would not harm her even though I was werewolf. I could not turn her away, as she spent weeks tracking me here. I let her into my room, and now into my bed.
I should have known I could not lose her. She is wood elf, and probably considered a good tracker even for them.

Werewolf. Such a strange thing. A strange curse. It effects me in subtle ways from day to day. I hunger more, and tend to like my food, well, less cooked with less season. I hear very well, as if my ears were new again. It is as if my senses have not been dulled by time. I do not think they are as good as a wolf's, but they seem to be on par with even Belwin. I also have stronger urges as a man. I think Belwin realizes this and plays on that very weakness of mine now. I cannot say I am unhappy with it, but the passion and raw instincts that comes with all of this unsettles me some.
The worst part of this curse is when a full moon approaches. I begin to lose control, and can easily change if I do not watch my emotions. Strong emotions can set it off, and the creature can become unleashed, so to speak.
The change itself is horrific and quite painful, as if the wolf is clawing it's way out of my skin. It may well be just that, on a different level. I cannot say. I wonder if it feels imprisoned while I am in control, or if I am indeed both the wolf and myself and the wolf does not exist separate from me. Belwin says there is no cure that she knows of, and her people know much of such things. She tells me to embrace who I am, to stop considering it a curse and think of it as a blessing.
I find that very hard to do.

I told Belwin we will keep in Falkreath for a bit. We will need to earn some gold and buy equipment before we make the trek to Whiterun. Belwin heard that there were some bandits to the south of town hold up in a cave. They have been shaking the merchants down for some time, and the town is sick of them. They will pay for their removal, so that is what we will be doing soon. I do not mind such work, as it is similar to what I do as a member of the Fighter's Guild. I was assured they are murderers and scoundrels, and that if I must kill them, it would be justice for the ones they murdered and ***. It is a good time to take such a job as the moon Masser is waning, and I hardly even feel the beast within.

Krist · April 2016

Belwin

So I'm chasing after a big Nord Knight who was once working for the Imperials but then joined the Fighter's Guild and was sent to kill my lover Red and is now a stinking werewolf.
Belwin, how in all of Nirn do you get yourself into these things?
I am thinking I just got it bad for Nords. I mean, look at em, they are big and muscular and stupid, what is there not to be liking? Except Red was not stupid, and neither is Krist. I was first wanting to get Krist back for killing Red, even though it was a fair fight. I would like to say I wont because Red would roll over in his grave, if the pack of scoundrels we were with bothered to bury him. Red had as much honor as Krist, in his own way. It was a fair fight, and Red would haunt me for killing the man who killed him, when it was a fair fight. Krist didn't just kill him either. Red was wanted, and I guess for good reasons at that. I wont get into that right now.

Maybe I am just trying to convince myself that it is okay to like Krist. He is not what I was expecting at all from those snooty uppity knight types. He treats folks proper whether they are poor or rich. He don't abide criminals much so I never tell him what I was before. He has no idea I was Sweet Honey, lover of the bandit Red. He don't know the gang sold me as a slave after Red died. He only knows he got me out of a slave cart and I don't like talking about how I got there. He don't question me either on it, he is too nice to do that. I don't see me offering nothing more either any time soon. That was Sweet Honey, I am Belwin again, like my family named me.

We are in Skyrim, and it is pure Skyrim cold. That's what we use to call a cold snap back home, but we sure did not know what cold really was when we said it. Falkreath is a little nothing town with little to nothing to do in it. Krist says we will hold up here a bit. I guess we need the rest. I found us a bit of work too. It's a bit strange that I will be working with a knight of the Fighter's Guild and not running from him. Krist don't have his big Empire armor no more, but he says it is fine, he aint worrying over it none. I seen him when he fought Red, who was the best fighter I had seen. I think Krist will be fine too. Me, I use my bow, and keep my short swords for close up if I must. Or long daggers, not sure which they are, but it don't matter none.

Krist · April 2016

Krist checked the armor he bought from the local smith. Of course he did not have a full set, but he did have a steel chest piece and greaves. They were also not a matching set, and Krist had to do some heavy polishing to clean them up and get the smell of the last owner out of them, but they would work just fine to protect him. He supplemented the rest of it with leather.
The armor was fine, so he checked the short sword and shield. The steel sword was well crafted, but not fancy, showing nothing of who made it, or who carried it in the past. The shield he carried was of a more typical Nord design, rounded and banded. Krist preferred the Imperial shields or the rare elven shields, to a Nord targe, but it would do.
"This is what I found," Belwin said, entering the room in some leather armor.
It was not the practical well fitted design she lost at Blue Road Keep when they had to flee. The neckline was cut to show off the chest, and the leggings ended a quarter of the way down to the knees. To compensate she wore knee high boots.
Krist could not help but smile a bit, forcing himself to not chuckle. Belwin looked more like she was ready to stand on a corner in the Imperial City and solicit men than to go into combat. She also looked quite unhappy with it.
"Laugh if you wanting to, Krist Lindor, but the man almost got gutted for offering me this," Belwin said, her frown deepening even more.
"Then why did you....," Krist began but chuckled and could not finish.
"Shut up you. The leather is good, and I can add to it when I get some time. I know how to work leather," Belwin said, stomping over to her weapons.
"Well I can see you know how to work the leather," Krist said, and felt the wind of a dagger pass by his head, sticking into the wall behind him. This only brought another chuckle to the big Nord.
"He didn't have nothing else," she huffed, and rolled her dark eyes.
Krist grew quiet again, as he went back to checking the shield for any possible flaws. He glanced up to Belwin who was checking her bow string, she was as careful as he was when it came to her weapons. Her very red hair was cut short, cropped to the neck, though she kept the bangs a little longer. She was not beautiful, and maybe not even pretty. Krist never could decide on that. There was something about her though that he found attractive, obviously. He never could pin point exactly what. It wasn't only him either, others looked her way as she passed. He figured it was how she carried herself, more than how she actually looked.
Belwin felt his eyes on her, more than saw. She did not return the look, instead kept to her task. She still found herself fighting inside over why she bedded with him, the killer of Red, her lover before Krist. She did trust him with her life, now, even though she plotted his own death many times over in her head. That was before she actually got to know him. She wondered what he would think of her if he knew who she actually was. Would he stare at her as he does now? Would he actually care if she lived or died?
Well, Krist would care if she lived or died, that she knew. He could hate her and still care what happened to her. While he was not afraid to take a life in battle, he was not one to enjoy such things, and he was not one to enjoy anyone elses suffering. If angered, Belwin absolutely enjoyed the kill. It was exhilarating to her. But Krist? He was noble, like a knight should be, but like so many knights failed to be. In her 80 years, she never met someone as kind as he was, but still able to fight as well as he does.
"Tomorrow we will take to the road and see if we can locate these bandits," Krist finally said.
Belwin just nodded.

Krist · April 2016

"Is that your boy?" the stocky Nord asked, stopping Krist and Belwin from passing. It was an odd question from a stranger.
Krist had seen them up ahead on the road south of Falkreath, they were not even being very sneaky about it. They did not have to, they could have either run them down because Krist was pulling the cart of "goods", or Krist would have abandoned the cart. Either way they would have retrieved what they wanted.
Krist looked the Nord over, who was carrying a large axe over his shoulder. He was sneering through an unkempt beard.
"I'm not a boy," Belwin said, but this only brought laughs from the group. The rest were younger than the leader, all Nord except one Dunmer. The Dunmer did not laugh, instead he watched Krist and Belwin quite closely.
Krist realized this man would probably be the most dangerous, next to their leader.
"Well, it's going to cost you good folks, carrying goods down our road," the leader said.
"Free road, what if we aint paying," Belwin asked, bringing another chuckle from the group.
"What's the cost," Krist asked, hand now on the short sword beneath his fur cloak. He and Belwin were bundled for the cold, but it also concealed the weapons and armor beneath the fur cloaks they wore.
The Nord grinned now, showing some missing teeth, the rest were rotten enough to be falling out soon. Krist placed him at about 50 winters, and a bit heavy in the middle, though it was hard to say for sure under his furs.
"It just costs you your goods, that's all," the man said, spitting as he pulled his heavy axe from his back.
"Why would I pay you all of my goods if I am using this here road to transport my goods," Krist asked, still not pulling his own weapon.
"Cause then it would cost you your life," he replied. "Up to you though, makes me no difference."

While Krist was talking to the apparent leader, Belwin slowly reached under the pelts that were stacked in the cart, and moved her bow and quiver to the edge of it. She then reached under until she felt Krist's shield, pulling it closer to her as well, but not taking her hand off of it. She glanced up to the sun, marking it's position. It was high in the sky so she would not have to worry about glare.

"I'm not paying a gold piece to you," Krist said, pulling his short sword, shrugging the heavy fur cloak from his shoulders, revealing the breast plate and leather armor he wore.
"Well, aint that a shame," the Nord said, hefting his axe for a swing. The others began to pull their own weapons, as the Dunmer stepped back and began to chant.
Belwin tossed the shield to Krist, who caught it in his left hand. He would not have time to strap it, but that really did not matter to him much. He carried a shield this way in battle many times as a soldier.
Belwin grabbed her bow and quiver, then sprinted back up the road the way they had come from. Two of the bandits began to chase, but their leader called them back, apparently not considering Belwin a threat.

The bandit leader was a few inches shorter than Krist, but clearly could be his match in strength. He swung the heavy headed axe with ease, at first in an attempt to break Krist's shield. Krist understood this and instead only gave the axe head angles to land and then skip off of his targe. The bandit leader also recognized what Krist was doing, and would back up each time, not allowing Krist to step within his guard. It became much more difficult for Krist as two other bandits began to flank their leader, a tactic they apparently were well use to using. Krist simply gave the swordsmen angles on his metal breast plate, causing their attacks to be deflected as well.

The Dunmer cast some kind of spell that Krist did not recognize. He pulled his targe shield up, in an attempt to block whatever the dark elf was throwing at him. Nothing struck and Krist went back to defending against the other three. He blocked an attack from one of the bandits flanking the leader, and drove his sword into their chest. He quickly retreated around the cart to reset his defense, just dodging a swing from the leaders axe. It was then that he began to feel the effects of whatever spell the Dunmer cast. His body began to tingle, and he was losing strength.

Belwin saw the spell that went off from the Dunmer, and saw Krist strike a killing blow on one of the bandits. The Nord fell grasping his chest, cursing Krist for the few moments left of his life. She had already killed one with an arrow, and it did not appear any of the others noticed him drop. She notched another arrow, aimed carefully at the Dunmer, then loosed it for another kill.

Fedave was casting another spell, this one would set the big Nord on fire, when he saw the Bosmer moving down the road. He stopped his spell and looked about. Hrag was dead, an arrow sticking out of his chest. With Gunther dying from a gaping wound to his chest, that left only three of them, with the Bosmer loosing another arrow. He did not have to worry about the others, it was aimed specifically at him. Fedave spun away from it, the arrow notching in his cloak, something the cloak was spelled to do. He would have to kill the Bosmer. Hodlin, who was pretty good with an axe, and Kjelhe, who was fair with his sword, would have to tend to the Nord warrior. He already cursed the man, bringing him to a weakened state. Surely the two could manage to kill him.

Krist sucked in air, he felt as if he had been fighting for some time now, due to whatever spell the Dunmer cast on him. He calmed himself as he deflected a slice from the bandits sword with his own sword. He drove his targe into the man's chest, pushing him back into the other, then created some distance again, looking for the Dunmer mage. He did not want to suffer more magic. That was almost a mistake as the leader drove the pointed center of the head of his axe at Krist's chest. The puncture may not have killed him, but it would have been enough for the Nord bandit to finish him off with the blade of his axe. Krist dodged it, and got a meaty shoulder into his gut for the effort. This brought him down, but he purposefully tangled his feet in the lead bandits feet, causing his adversary to also hit the ground with a grunt.

Belwin saw Krist fall, but it could not be helped at this time. She was flinging arrow after arrow at the Dunmer, even as she was closing distance. She only had so many arrows, and she felt as she would never hit him. Something about him was strange, as if every arrow she shot either missed altogether or grazed the strange cloak he was wearing. To make matters worse he was throwing fire at her, almost hitting her several times. This caused her to have to zig zag her approach, but keep pressure on him all the same. Another flame shot barely missed, and she could feel her skin was singed from it. Belwin was close enough now that she dropped her bow and pulled her long daggers. The Dunmer was casting at the ground now, and Belwin was not sure what to expect.

Krist rolled away from a stabbing attack from the Nord with the sword. Though he was fatigued, it did not effect him as much as one may think. He was trained to fight tired, and the bandit was not as good with a sword as Krist. His blow actually pushed the blade into the ground. Krist kicked the man in the elbow, hearing something snap. The bandit let out a yelp, and backed away, falling down to his buttocks.
Their leader was up, though he was rising slow. Apparently when he fell the blade of his axe had cut into his right shoulder. This was nothing but luck for Krist, as he had no way of planning that. The leader appeared to be trying to walk it off some, before grabbing his axe back up from the ground with his left hand, anger obviously on his scarred dirty face.
Krist also rose, trying not to show that he was feeling weak. He could hear the clinging of metal and knew Belwin was fighting the mage now.
Krist saw the other bandit was not making any moves to help, instead, giving into the pain in his arm, moaning every now again.

Belwin saw the flames licking up from the ground just before she leaped. She was not sure what to expect, but since he was aiming at the ground she decided to leap. It was a good call, as she scored a slice into the mages soft leather. She was singed a bit more, but nothing that would not heal, nor slow her down. She landed with a roll, and came up in just enough time to dodge a dagger slice from the Dunmer. She rolled back and created distance, but that appeared to be exactly what the Dunmer wanted, as he began casting another spell.

Hodlin hefted his axe, offering a look of anger at Krist. He looked about and saw that it was only him and the mage left standing, and the mage was quite busy with the Bosmer. He was trying not to limp, as the warrior had twisted his knee when he tripped him and caused him to fall on the head of his axe. He sustained an injury to his right shoulder as well, but it was not deep. The knee was actually worse.

"Who are you," Hodlin asked of Krist, but looking to his fellow bandit that was still alive nursing an arm injury. This angered Hodlin, that the man would just sit there in defeat.
"Sir Krist Lindor, knight of the Fighter's Guild," Krist said, a look of resolve on his face.
Hodlin expected the man should be more fatigued, as he recognized the curse that Fedave had cast on him.
"Shouldn't you be chasing daedra and undead," Hodlin asked, but he was not really in the mood for talk, he was more worried about catching his own breath and walking the pain out of his knee.
"I have, but now I am here for you," Krist said. It did not bother him if the man thought he was wanted by the guild, it could cause him to give up, however unlikely that was.
"Well enough," Hodlin said, closing the distance with a speed that Krist did not expect.
Krist barely deflected a blow, one that was not really intended to kill but to stun. He kicked at the bad knee of the bandit this time, but Hodlin dodged around Krist, and backed away. His teeth were clenched either in anger or pain, Krist could not tell. He could not tell until Hodlin raised his axe and sunk into his fellow bandit that was still nursing his arm. The bandit screamed as the axe head buried deep into his shoulder, cleaving near to the middle of his chest. He gurgled a moment, a look of surprise on his face, then fell over dead as Hodlin removed his axe. The bandit leader spit on him in disgust.
"I wont bury you, knight, nor will I be burning you. I wont leave your corpse to be eaten by buzzards nor wolves either. I will drag you into a cave where you will rot until a necromancer, or something worse, comes by, and defiles your corpse. I hear they are heading this way, you will make a good soldier for them," Hodlin said.
"That won't happen. YOU are going to die. I will bring YOUR body to Falthreath, where they will bury you proper for a bandit. You will never rise again, but you will be judged by the eight," Krist countered, bringing a sneer from the bandit leader.
"To Oblivion with the bloody eight, and to Oblivion with you," Hodlin said, and once again attacked.

Fedave was having nothing but trouble with the Bosmer, as she sliced and stabbed with her two daggers. He was barely able to keep her off. He could hit her with a quick spell time to time, meant to knock her back. The ones that struck did knock her back, yet she was so fast she would simply close the distance again. He was losing the fight now, and unable to create distance. Thoughts of what to do were running through his mind as he felt the slice. While he was dodging one dagger to his heart she cut the other across his thigh.
Fedave was out of magic, and his single dagger would not be saving him. He quickly turn about, bending a knee and tossing the weapon.
"I yield," he called, just before he felt the cold blade across his throat. Blood started to gush into his mouth as he instinctively grasped for the wound. He tried to cough the blood up, so he could take a breath, but it was no use. He crawled away from the Bosmer, his mind still wondering how he could survive this. He could not believe this was happening, and it was in this unbelief that everything went dark.

Belwin looked over as Krist was wiping his sword on the dead bandit leader. She then scanned all about for any others, but there were none. It was over.