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By any means-Chapter 1 (Feedback wanted)

Started by Roflwaffleauthoritah
Post #109233

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Ebonheart Pact
By Any Means
Chapter 1:Cold Hearts

A blanket of whiteness stretched for miles upon miles, un-ending. Massive trees protruded from the white landscape but were dwarfed by the Mighty towers of rock, which were littered with frost. The shroud of white had engulfed most of the land in its icy, unforgiving grip. However this harsh land was home to towering structures filled with people as hardy as the walls in which they inhabited. Nords. The nords were the ones willing to take on this bitter land and make it home, they tamed the cruel beasts of Skyrim to survive. And survive they did. The nords thrived in Skyrim despite the merciless climate, the severe landscape and the brutal inhabitants. That is from where these structures originate, they are the monuments to the conquering of this ruthless land and the greatest and oldest of these has one name. A name which represents the harsh land in which it governs. Windhelm.

Windhelm. The oldest city in Skyrim. Windhelm was created by strong, hardy warriors for strong, hardy warriors. The nords that inhabit this city are just as harsh as the land they inhabit, they strive for fighting perfection and every day of their lives is filled with some sort of violence whether that is a bar brawl, murder or full on bandit raid. There are some that live in these walls that are better at the more 'thoughtful' arts such as merchants and enchanters, but they are not held as highly as the courageous men and women who dedicate themselves to fighting. To most, mages aren't considered strong enough to survive in the tough land of Skyrim. There is no group of people who believe this more passionately than the Fire-Hearts. This family is known throughout Skyrim as a family that breeds true warriors, they come from a long line of fighters and are famous and have their namesake because they are ferocious, courageous and never give up in a fight no matter how small the confrontation. By 1E 980 the Fire-Hearts in windhelm were made up of Jaalskr the leading man of the family, Helga the leading woman, Kaarun and Jori the elders and three children: Harvald, Ralmar and Jora. They were relatively small compared to how numerous they were earlier however Helga was expecting one more addition to the Fire-Heart family. Another little fighter to bring honour and glory to its respected family. This could not be further from the truth...

It was the 30th of Frostfall and the sky was pitch black with nothing but Masser and Secunda to pierce the dark vale. The cold bitter winds were even worse than they had been in the past week, with small flakes of ice gracefully descending to nirn from the endless sky. In one of windhelm's biggest manors screams were heard that spread throughout the lonely streets and alleys ways of the massive city. In that manor there was a rush, a rush of frantic nurses and midwives. The Fire-Hearts all stood outside one room, where the shrieking came from. Helga was in labour and accompanied by Jaalskr and a some of Skyrim's greatest midwives who were determined to bring the new addition to the family into Nirn. The screaming and frantic rushing carried on through some of the night until- silence. The rest of the family entered the grand room to witness Helga holding her new son as a tear rolled down from her eye and a large smile was plastered onto her face. He was a large baby, a common trait among the Fire-Hearts. The entire room was silent with awe until the silence was sliced by Helga who simply said-


Hrolwulf Fire-Heart. The family thought he would surely grow up to be a strong honourable warrior, a champion among men. A champion to rival even the most glorious ancestors of the Fire-Hearts.

Oh how they were wrong...

"Keep a tight grip of the bloody hilt!" a fierce voice boomed "No! Keep your shield up! By the gods why can't you follow simple instructions!"

"I'm trying, the shield is really heavy!" cried a feeble voice.

"Heavy?! You're supposed to be a Fire-Heart, a natural warrior. If you can't even hold a shield then clearly you're no son of mine!" Jaalskr stormed out of the yard where he was teaching Hrolwulf and went inside. Hrolwulf was 6 now and was very small for a Fire-Heart. Unlike his siblings he was scrawny, short and overall pathetic to look at. Jet black hair adorned his head along with stunning hazel eyes and he had an almost snow white complexion. He always tried his best for his family but no matter how much painful training he did he was still weak. Hrolwulf didn't see the need for such savage ways of fighting, about a year ago he found a book detailing the mind-blowing things the magic could do. He was enthralled by the wonders of the arcane arts and ever since has begged his family to let him practice magic. Of course the Fire-Hearts being a well respected and honourable Nord family shunned him for it. They tried to drill the "cowardly thoughts of weak pathetic bastards" out of his mind through teaching him "the skills anyone lucky enough to call themselves a Nord should know". Hrolwulf wanted to fit in but knew that he could not abandon his fiery passion for an attempt at becoming a "true nord" and pleasing his disgustingly ignorant family. Hrolwulf kept his beloved beliefs over the next decade and as a result his family loathed him for it, they treated him as if he was a revolting plague victim that needed to be hidden away and never be found. The Fire-Hearts never went out in public with Hrolwulf in fear of ruining their reputation with such a disappointment for a son. Eventually they gave up on him and treated him like a stranger, they provided food and roof over his head and that was it. No contact. At all. Hrolwulf spent most of his depressing time outside studying the beauty of Skyrim or reading through books (they were mostly about magic) that he managed to scavenge from shopkeepers who were dumbfounded they even had those kinds of books. By the time he was 14 he managed to secure an apprenticeship for a shop owner however he managed to ruin that promising prospect by asking a simple question...

"Do you sell spell tomes?"

Hrolwulf was laughed out of the shop by a "true nord". Yet again he was shunned by an ignorant nord. As he sat in an alleyway next to the shop, alone, a soft voice burst the silence

"Are you Alright?"

This is the 'pilot' to a possible series I might write, it'll be livelier after this chapter. This chapter feels disconnected because I wrote the first half weeks ago and it is meant to set the scene. I wasn't really sure how to start it off but the premise of this series would be about Hrolwulf and him becoming a vampire, a very old one in fact. It'll be about his struggle through time and the moral obstacles that face him. Feedback is very much appreciated. Thanks for reading.
This post was last modified: November 20th 2013, 10:21 AM by Roflwaffleauthoritah

Death to Queen Ayrenn!
Down with the covenant!
Glory to the pact!

Xhuvara - Argonian guerrilla fighter and leader of the shadow fangs

Azhir - Redguard knight dedicated to the art of war
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