Hey, friends. Just discovered this Story Corner and, since I have a fond love for writing stories of any caliber - well, mostly considering the fact I actually am writing an Elder Scrolls story at the moment - I thought I'd try my hand and post my own in here.
The title of this saga is "A Tale of the North" and follows the story of Bronmir North-Wind (though, in the beginning, he knows himself as Bronmir, Son of Kessar, and not as a North-Wind). I've posted my North-Winds a few times in this group (most notably in my build, The Grandmaster of the North-Winds) and I'm pretty sure I've gone into decent detail about them, so I won't elaborate much - especially since, as the story progressed, Bronmir himself learns who they are, so we all will, too.
Introduction: Bronmir, after his mother's untimely death, takes over the store and transforms it into a smithy. One day, he discovers a tattered journal among her possessions that outlines her time living in Winterhold, in Skyrim. However, as far as Bronmir was aware, she had been born, lived, and then died in Bruma. Dumbfounded by this new discovery, he decides for himself that he needs to find out the truth of who he is, so he packs his stuff, closes shop, and leaves for Winterhold. The story picks him up on the road, just south of Falkreath. (Now, since I decided to write this with a similar manner to how the game would play out, there may and will be a few parts that are copied almost verbatim from the game, such as the vanilla opening scene. I try to tie it in as much as possible.)
(No, the warrior in the image is not Bronmir; just a random image I found from google that fits what he looks like, for the msot part)
A Tale of the North
an Elder Scrolls Story
Prologue
The scout was wandering in the forests outside the manor, keeping watch on the land owned by the North-Winds when he spotted them. Golden armor and golden skin. Even from this distance, he could see the crest of the Aldmeri Dominion emblazoned on shields and breastplates. He knew they were not here for deliberation. War had been looming on the Empire’s horizon for some time, but as far as he was aware, the Altmer had not yet crossed the waters.
The young scout swiftly turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran through the woods, ducking, jumping, and weaving through brush, branch, and all manner of dense foliage. The thorns of trees and vines whipped his skin, tearing his flesh, but he paid them no mind. It was crucial this information be brought to High Magister Ranwen as soon as possible.
After an eternity – or perhaps two – the scout burst from the between the trees and sprinted to the main gate, not even pausing to catch his breath. He shouted to the guards to open the gate, that he had news most dire, for High Magister Ranwen’s ears only. Though the scout was a greenhorn, the severity of his tone and the fear in his eyes kept the guards from hesitating. They opened the gates.
The scout ran and ran, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He did not even think of pausing to breathe – the Thalmor surely wouldn’t!
He reached the inner wall and encountered no resistance there, either. It was only until he reached the entrance of the fortress that he was stopped. He stated his business and, after a moment, the guards let him through. He ran through the manor, searching for his quarry, the High Magister Ranwen. Fortunately, luck was on his side and he ran into the High Magister, quite literally.
After numerous apologies, the High Magister sighed.
“My boy,” he said. “What is so important you are running through these halls with your head down and fright dancing in your eyes?”
The scout panted with fatigue. “T-t-t-t-t,” he stammered. He couldn’t even speak properly; his heart was pulsating with the rhythm of a thousand stamping horses. He tried to breathe and calm himself. “I-I-I-I,” he tried again, with no better luck. Knowing time was of the essence, he slapped his own face, trying to regain control of his flapping tongue. The High Magister stared with an odd look, clearly puzzled as to the boy’s actions.
“I…I saw them. To the west. About two miles or so. They’re coming, master! We must flee!”
“Who, boy? Who is coming?”
“The Thalmor! An entire battalion! I saw them with my own eyes!”
“A battalion of Altmer from the Dominion? This is indeed grave news. Lord Kessar, may Lady Kyne bless his name, must be informed at once. If they are already this close, flight is no longer an option. We must fight. It’s a shame Lords Caswin and Esshen, may Lady Kyne bless their names, along with much of our home forces, are in the capital, attending to the Emperor. I fear we will not survive. You did well.”
High Magister Ranwen turned and briskly walked through the halls of the manor, heading for the chambers of Lord Kessar North-Wind, may Lady Kyne bless his name. Upon his arrival, he threw open the doors.
“Lord Kessar! I apologize for the intrusion, but I have bad news.”
The younger man with long white hair, eyes a piercing yellow, turned. “Ranwen, my dear friend. What is it?”
“An army from the Dominion approaches, my Lord. Two miles to the western forests. I know we do not have most of our soldiers, but we must prepare for an attack. We must –”
Kessar cut him off with a wave. “At ease, Ranwen. I anticipated this. My brother, Elsar, with the Blades at Temple Cloud Ruler Spoke to me. I heard his Voice. They are under attack from the Thalmor as well. Seems the Dominion intends to crush their greatest opposition before they assault the Empire itself. The Blades, who have long protected the Emperor, and we North-Winds, who have always supported the Emperor, who are trained by the Nords in war and the Thu’um.
“Yes. Our men are gathered, but they have not been told why. I felt no need to panic them, though I only just sent word. I was hoping we might escape, but if they are only two miles west, there is no time for that. At least we will fight knowing my two sons guard the Emperor even now.”
“How can you be so calm?” Ranwen replied. “Your grandson was just born not a month ago! We must –”
Kessar interrupted Ranwen with a slap to the face. “Do not mistake my ease for complacency or lethargy. I am well aware of my young grandson’s birth. What would you have me do? Send a new born child into the wilderness by himself? We cannot escape this. Panic will do us no good. You should know that better than anyone. After all, was it not you who beat that lesson into me?”
Ranwen recoiled from the strike but sighed. “I…I am sorry, my Lord. You are right, of course. I allowed fear to encroach my mind. There is nothing we can do but fight. But if I may offer an alternative. Perhaps, in the midst of the battle, his mother might be able to flee with the child. We may not survive a direct encounter with the Thalmor, but at least your noble family can continue to exist.”
The eldest member of the North-Wind Clan pondered this. “Hm. They would only be able to escape when the battle is at its peak, and only in disguise. They would have to flee to Cyrodiil. Skyrim would no longer be safe for them, for a time. They would have to drop the name, adopt a life of humility and servitude. But they would survive. It might work. Attend to it yourself, but keep it a secret. Tell no one, trust no one. Following that, I want you to ensure our legacy survives. Activate the enchantment around the vault. It must remain safe. When he comes of age, he will be able to unlock it, and hopefully he can learn who he truly is. Now go, and may Lady Kyne be with you always.”
Ranwen bowed. “And with you, my Lord. It has been an honor to serve you.” Ranwen departed.
And so it came to pass that the ancient and secret North-Wind family, who had served the Empire for ages, was attacked by the Thalmor at their fortress in Skyrim, shortly before the Dominion attacked the Empire, and not long after the Thalmor invaded Cloud Ruler Temple to destroy the Blades. Legend says the North-Wind Clan was completely and utterly destroyed, and all record of who they once were was lost.
Replies
Incradible writing, Fimvul! Everything in prologues is so vague and mysterious often times, and you have managed to not only capture that essence but also give just enough information that I am totally hooked and cannot wait to continue reading.
Very cool idea to sort of create your own faction with this "North-Wind Clan." Looking forward very much to seeing how this plays out.
P.S. that is an incredible cover.
I've been writing stuff since I was like eight years old, but I didn't really find a talent or knack for it until I hit 15-16, when I discovered the book series "Wheel of Time". Robert Jordan (rip) made me want to write my own novels, so I would take a lot of paper and pens to school and, instead of paying attention, I would constantly jot stuff down. Ideas, outlines, anything. Eventually, I had a 16 page intro written down and I decided to expand upon it. Ended up writing about 600 pages' worth of text. It also took me so many years to do it that I found my writing style had vastly improved, so I scrapped it for a couple of years, wrote some random things, and then I got huge into writing fanfiction. I made Bronmir North-Wind quite by accident. Actually, the first iteration of him was a female in Skyrim, a Breton by the name of Isimiriel. I role-played her joining the Vigilants of Stendarr and the Dawnguard, eventually created a faction to which she might have belonged, the Northern Paladins. As I progressed her story, I decided it needed a proper history, and began writing lore for the Northern Paladins. However, I found what little I was giving to them wasn't sufficient to make them a proper faction, like the Dawnguard or the Dark Brotherhood. I regressed into my notes for a few months, not even touching her character on Skyrim. When I returned to it, I deleted her character (in hindsight, probably not the best idea as it was almost three-hundred hours in LMAO oops) and came up with a new character, a new Northern Paladin, by the name of Ragos the Incorruptible. He took the Northern Paladins into a new light but still, it didn't seem adequate. After a couple more irrelevant iterations, I eventually came up with Bronmir and the Northern Paladins evolved into the North-Winds. However, at first, they weren't a family, just a clan of people who all worshipped Kyne and served the Empire. It wasn't until maybe a year ago that Bronmir became Bronmir North-Wind, last surviving member of the North-Wind Family, and the North-Winds themselves became a family who had served the Empire in secret, living in the mountains of Winterhold, following the teachings of Kyne and Talos, learning the arts of the Paladin and the Thu'um.
I'm happy someone is enjoying reading it as much as I do in writing it! I've got a lot in store, so stay tuned!
P.S. photoshop is a wonderful thing
didn't mean to write a whole ass paragraph, but I love writing lol
lol I know the feeling.
Incradible? Is that like radical and incredible mixed into one?
precisely lol