Siigonis Ahvulon - Skyrim Fan Fiction

First things first let it be said that I am not the most gifted writer...as a matter of fact I've never written a story and posted it online before so don't expect anything amazing >.>

WARNING! Sections of the story WILL contain excessive language, graphic scenes, and the occasional suggestive theme so DO NOT READ if you do not wish to see/read about these things!

As some of you may know I am a HUGE fan of The Elder Scrolls and after reading up a bit on the lore of my favorite race, Argonians, I decided to create a new character on Skyrim and make a story to follow my adventures through the game to make it more interesting for me while hopefully entertaining anyone willing to read what I post. So now let the story begin and please feel free to leave me any suggestions or critiques on my writing or the story itself ^^

Siigonis Ahvulon - Strange Beginnings​

The soft bey of horses and the clatter of armor brakes through the dimly lit landscape and the crisp, dry, Nordic air. Both distinct sounds coming from the faction wishing to unite the home world of the Nords under the laws of Tamriel, the Imperials. All of them wore their iconic red clothing cloaked in a variety of leather and steel armors making the garments themselves barely visible. I look around to find snow covering a vast majority of the surroundings, the wagon i was being carted in included, with a new light dusting settling over what had already fallen. I am not alone in this wagon however and find myself face to face with five fair skinned Nords native to this frigid land known as Skyrim. All, myself included, have their hands bound tightly severely limiting their movement though one in particular, appearing to be the eldest of the group, also has a binding around his mouth preventing anything but muffled grunts to escape. These Nordic soldiers, four males and one female, were not like the Imperials in the slightest outside of fighting for their ideals. They, rather than unite the nations, fight for a free Skyrim unhindered or uncontrolled by an outside nation. Also unlike the Imperials these "Stormcloaks", as they call themselves, wore armor made of furs highlighted with strong, rich, blue undertones making them just as easily distinguishable as their counterparts.

As my thoughts began to wonder about how I even came to be in this wagon I was quickly brought back to reality as the blonde haired male sitting across from me spoke.

"So what brings an Argonian to our lovely land?"

The dark brown and black scales covering my face and hands were a dead giveaway to my race and made me just as easily noticeable as the flashy uniforms worn by both warring factions. His tone was surprisingly upbeat despite the situation in which we found ourselves. His disposition quickly changed to be more inquisitive as I calmly responded with a slight hiss, further assuring my reptilian lineage.

"My business is of no concern to you Nord."

My attention is then brought to the stone walls we had just passed through as a strong, solid, oak gate is closed firmly behind us. The wagon slows to a halt as we are ordered by our captors to exit them. Unable to do anything but comply we do as we are told and stand beside our wagons as the Imperials begin to call out the names of their prisoners. Ulfrik Stormcloak, the leader of the Stormcloaks, was the main focus of their attention however since with his capture the war was as good as over. Once the names on the Imperial role call were given I stood alone as a female soldier dressed in a heavy steel raiment approached.

"Who the hell are you?"

She abruptly bellows mere inches from me. Despite her hostility I can not help but be captivated by her beauty. Dark skinned, ebony hair as black as midnight itself, and glistening green eyes....it all somehow reminded me of my beloved homeland, Black Marsh.

"I said who the hell are you Argonian?"

She states even more firmly than before as she grabs the simple cloth shirt I currently wore. Her beauty is only matched by her strength...a worthy mark indeed.

"I am Yelus Nagrean. A simple pilgrim following The Hist's wishes. I have no quarrels with you Imperials and am unaware of what I have even been arrested for and wish to be released."

A simple pilgrim...if you call a highly skilled and expertly trained assassin a simple pilgrim then I am indeed that. I was a young and inexperienced youth at the time of the Oblivion Crisis many years ago. The daedric prince Merunes Dagon released his wrath by opening Oblivion Gates, massive portals of dark energy, and sending his armies through them to take over the mortal kingdoms. The Hist, a massive living tree in Black Marsh with mystic powers, foresaw this invasion before it even began and used it's powers to call back all Argonians to defend their home world. The Hist granted many warriors with powers, myself included, to fight off the daedra by allowing them to drink from it's sap. With the aid of The Hist the Argonians were able to overwhelm Merunes Dagon's armies and force them to retreat back to their Plane of Oblivion defeated.

"Did I ask for your life story or your wishes Argonian? No I didn't! Just fall in line and wait for your turn at the block."

She then releases my shirt and forcefully shoves me towards the Stormcloaks already in line. Her continued rudeness was now beginning to overshadow her beauty and strength causing an audible sigh to escape my mouth as she turned and walked towards a fellow Imperial wielding a rather formidable ax. As the soldiers in red surrounded the Stormcloaks the sun began to shed its light over the vast mountain ranges and Skyrim began to quietly come to life with the sounds of people and animals alike. A crowd had began to form to witness the upcoming spectacle as the soft voice of a priestess could be heard reading our last rites aloud...was this truly how my adventure was meant to end?

As the priestess' words cease all is quiet for a few moments before one of the gathering townsmen yells out breaking the silence.

"First the lizard!"

As if he could be talking about anyone but myself. Attempting to flee came to my mind but with so many armed guards encircling us, archers behind them, and all entrances in and out of the city sealed tight it isn't like I would make it very far in the first place...besides The Hist would not have sent me all the way to Skyrim simply to die as soon as I got here. The Imperial officers nod to one another in approval of me being the first to the block even though I'm the only one of the prisoners not even involved in the war. The same steel clad woman approaches me, though this time with a smirk across her face, before softly speaking into my ear.

"Looks like your wishes won't be coming true after all lizard. I'm gonna enjoy watching that head of yours pop off.

Her smirk quickly faded to a frown as I showed no emotion or acknowledgment to any of her venom filled words and simply stared straight through her towards the headsman's block awaiting my arrival. Her rudeness reared its ugly head again as she shoves me in the back once more causing me to topple over mere feet from the block. Some chuckles and cheers escape the soldiers and citizens as the woman pulls me up just enough to place my head on the chopping block then forcefully slams her foot down on my back holding me in place.

"Make your peace lizard. Any last requests?"

The headsman states as he begins to find his footing for the execution. Before I can do or think anything else a whisper, only heard by me, with a deep, earthy tone fills my mind...The Hist.

"Fear not child. All is well and as it should be."

I have never been one to question The Hist but this situation certainly didn't seem to be one where I should not fear anything...Still I have never been guided wrong before so why doubt it now? Taking up the offer of a last request I quickly blurt out the first question that came to me as I turn my head just enough to see the steel clad woman's face through the corner of my eye.

"Your name miss?"

Her frown from before quickly turns to a questioning look as I explain my last request is for her to tell me her name. She goes from questioning to audibly laughing at my request as she lowers herself down to my eye level. As she does this I hear a distant roar pierce the landscape though others don't seem to notice.

"Sylvia is my name you damned Argonian. Now why in the Eight would you want to know that?"

My eyes lock with hers as I simply respond in the coldest tone possible.

"I always know the names of my marks...makes the kill more enjoyable and trust me I will enjoy watching you gasp for breath."

With this she spits in my face and raises up enraged before turning to the headsman.

"I'm sick of seeing this bastard still breathing. Kill him now!"

The ax wielding Imperial acknowledges the request and readies his ax. It appears as though I only have a few moments left in my life before the same roar I heard before becomes audible again though this time much closer. Everyone inside the city gates heard it this time and begin looking towards one another for answers. As the roar faded away attention was placed back on me as the headsman began to lift his jagged edged weapon above his head. Just as he was about to cleave my head from the rest of my body a massive black shadow covers the main street of the town followed by a viscous roar. The headsman's ax makes a loud clammer as it fall to the ground as he points to the sky.

"Gods above....it's a dragon!"

As I felt Sylvia's foot lift itself from my body I rolled over onto my back to see an ebony dragon flying a few feet above the towns walls. It then landed upon one of the watchtowers looking down at all the soldiers and citizens below. Finally after a long pause it began speaking in a language that I had never heard before though somehow I understood every word...

"Joor thy oblaan los nigh! Alduin lost daal ahrk Zu'u fent wazahl dii nahkriin voknau pah do Keizaal!"

(Mortals thy end is nigh! Alduin has returned and I shall exact my revenge upon all of Skyrim!)

Following these words a massive storm cloud began to build over head as huge balls of fire began to fall igniting anyone and anything they made contact with. As I gazed at the fiery downpour a forceful tug was felt at the back of my cloth shirt as I was lifted off of the ground by the Nord who had spoke to me inside the wagon.

"Come on Argonian! The gods won't give us another chance!"

Words were not needed to confirm my thoughts as we followed the other Stormcloaks towards the keep as fast as possible dodging flaming meteors in the process. I was in the back of our group keeping watch more overhead than I was in front of me. Arrows were now filling the air just as much as the balls of fire as the Imperials attempted to fight off the airborne assailant. As I neared the keep my companions had already entered something began to echo in my mind.

I turned around just outside the open keep door and looked upon the destruction left in the dragon's wake. Every single building in the town was now burning and massive pillars of smoke jutted up into the clear air contaminating the surreal landscape outside of the walls. With my back to the open door of the keep I watched as the dragon named Alduin landed mere feet from me ready to kill yet another helpless mortal. As he opened his mouth to attack the echo that had been in my mind became audible.

"Hi lost bahvit hin dukiin."
(You have rescued your demise.)

The dragon's mouth suddenly closes as he stares at me once again though this time with a look of intrigue instead of hatred. This stare is then followed by what appears to be a smirk and a single word escaping Alduin's mouth.

"Dovahkiin....."
(Dragonborn.....)

His eyes then fill with rage as he bellows in an angered tone.

"Yol...Tor...Shul!"
(Fire...Dusk...Sun!)

A vortex of fire then shot from his mouth completely engulfing me in flames and launched me back into the open doorway of the keep. I struck an interior wall before falling to the ground causing a severe pain to shoot through my entire body and three of my ribs jut out from my skin. My Nordic companions rolled me onto my back in an attempt to help but I managed to push them away long enough to let one of my gifts given to me by The Hist take effect. My entire body began to glow with a luminous golden light as all of my injuries began to heal themselves. My ribs reentered my body and were no longer broken, the area where my ribs jutted out was now healed over, and even the burns from the dragon's breathe were no longer as visible. The pain from this sudden healing is excruciating but its effectiveness cannot be questioned. Few words came from the Nords around me...they simply look to one another for an explanation before I spoke up.

"That is called Histskin...a power granted to me by The Hist which enables me to completely heal all of my injuries and ailments. Its uses are limited to once a day and it hurts like hell so I try not to use it unless absolutely necessary..."

Ulfric Stormcloak, the man in the wagon who had his mouth bound, rose up and eyed me curiously.

"A simple pilgrim eh? I find that hard to believe friend....especially when you are an outsider and know Dovahzul (Dragon Language) when most native Nords don't even understand."

Before anything else could be said a clamor from down one of the nearby corridors could be heard as the sound of soldiers in heavy armor began running through the halls both looking for us and attempting to find a way away from the dragon's onslaught. I turned to the others who were now pilfering the area for any sort of weapons they could find. The blonde man turns to me with a waraxe and sword, both made of iron, in his hands.

"I'm guessing you know how to use one of these? The named is Ralof by the way...don't think we ever got to introductions."

I eye the weapons he brandished before me then reach towards his belt and pull out a dagger he had concealed.

"I would rather use this if that is acceptable...and the name is Yelus."