PygmyGoats
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- Posted: Sun, 16 Feb 2014 19:20:14 +0000
Here it is! You can also scroll down to read it.
The story was inspired by some in-game events (lots of Companion questiline spoilers there, btw) and I decided to give it a try.
Some of my fav fanfics from other writers, highly recommended:
Undersong (Skyrim), a story about Hadvar and the dragonborn.
Kingdom, another short Skyrim fanfic, beautifully written.
Human, all too human (Beyond Good and Evl, one of the most underrated, gorgeous and captivating games ever)
Edit: Are the links working? :C
==========================================================================
(*Pasted from fanfiction.net)
Hello! First of all, thank you for taking your time to read this :3 Secondly, English is not my main language! Writing and reading other people's works is how I've been trying to improve my grammar and vocabulary, though. I'll be glad to know about vices/mistakes committed here.
About the story [Spoilers - and awkward game glitches - ahead]
The idea for making this came from my real experiences in Skyrim. Skjor and Kodlak are both gone by the end of the Companions questline, but after a few more days of gameplay Skjor decided to hang around the main hall again, calling me a whelp and regularly asking for his shield to be checked - although now I was his harbinger. Well, being undead and having to catch up with all the new rumors and events must be tough.
I noticed that Kodlak was still gone, though, and figured it could be interesting to write about this non-canon experience from my character's point of view.
I've used one of my illustrations as the thumbnail for this story!* Check my other paintings, doodles and fanarts at AneDrawsThings on Facebook.
Skjor's raspy voice greeted me as I stepped into the halls. Farkas and Vilkas stood beside him and were as amused as myself.
The man breathed heavily and had a mixture of dirt and dried blood over his armor and skin.
"But you..." I babbled, "the Silver Hands kil... AELA? COME HERE NOW."
The wolf man seemed confused and looked around, searching for something while criticizing "how helpless all whelps around here are."
The heavy doors from Jorvaskarr's main hall opened with a slow creak, and I heard Aela's voice fill the halls as she emerged from the yard. She called out for the wolf man.
Her eyes scanned our visitor as I was struck by a new thought: If Skjor (or someone, or something, that claims to be Skjor) is back... Then maybe we would be able to see Kodlak again… And perhaps save his soul from Hircine.
While finishing those thoughts, my legs started rushing towards the living quarters, as I shouted for the companions to try to discover what was going on.
Crossing the corridors took many steps I never bothered to count until now, and I dived into the doors at the end of the passage reminding myself to be gentle - but ending up slamming the wood with my shoulder plates. The empty room struck me worse than I struck the door.
The hopes of granting our former harbinger his deserved home in Sovngarde vanished. Dead werewolves are claimed by the daedra Hircine to join him in the Hunting Grounds, which consists in a completely different afterlife from Sovngarde. The glory of joining others in an unending hunt may be wished upon for some, but not for Kodlak.
I contemplated the stupidity of my deductions while silently gathering supplies from the rooms, and the weight over my shoulders pinched and sank at each step taken back to the halls. I still couldn't find a way to save the old wolf, but Skjor's return should still be dealt with.
The companion's voices echoed again, as they were trying to put some sense into the new situation. Aela made Skjor sit - while doing her best to control her own emotions, I noticed. The wolf man didn't seem to be in his full reasoning capacities, and was asking around to have his shield checked – although his hands were empty. Vilkas was awkwardly balancing a tower of books containing undead lore and curses on his arms, Farkas fetched mead and bread for Skjor, in case he was hungry. Ria and Torvar started consulting the books Vilkas piled over the tables.
I glanced at Wuuthard and felt the beast within growl. The Silver Hands would pay for their deaths, and now they would pay for our recurring grief and confusion. Farkas came over, two sweetrolls stuffed inside his mouth.
"Good news, it seems like Skjor survived," he munched.
"Oh. Is that so, ice-brains?" snapped Aela.
"I mean he is not a living dead."
"What is going on?" I asked.
"When we couldn't retrieve his body, the Silver Hands dumped him into a pit. There was some spirit left in the hound though, and he ran off as a werewolf. This is all we could extract from him so far." explained Vilkas
"I'm starving! Fetch me more mead and cheese, whelp!" Skjor roared to me, and I complied. He was at the brink of exhaustion, and possibly roamed all alone through Skyrim's savagery before returning home. It didn't seem right to argue now.
"...We are glad to have you back, you filthy beast," I jested, handling him more food. He caught my eyes for a small moment, a thankful glimpse on his deep expression lines. "Good job everyone. Aela, guys, please take good care of him while we're off. Farkas, we have vampires to slay."
"Sounds good to me," he consented, stuffing an entire cream crème tart inside his mouth before we left. "It is too cold out there now, I'll need more sugar."
It hit me how proud I felt about the Companions. Those weren't the whelps Skjor mentioned anymore. He would be pleased to return to his full senses and see what we became.
They were my pack.
The story was inspired by some in-game events (lots of Companion questiline spoilers there, btw) and I decided to give it a try.
Some of my fav fanfics from other writers, highly recommended:
Undersong (Skyrim), a story about Hadvar and the dragonborn.
Kingdom, another short Skyrim fanfic, beautifully written.
Human, all too human (Beyond Good and Evl, one of the most underrated, gorgeous and captivating games ever)
Edit: Are the links working? :C
==========================================================================
(*Pasted from fanfiction.net)
Hello! First of all, thank you for taking your time to read this :3 Secondly, English is not my main language! Writing and reading other people's works is how I've been trying to improve my grammar and vocabulary, though. I'll be glad to know about vices/mistakes committed here.
About the story [Spoilers - and awkward game glitches - ahead]
The idea for making this came from my real experiences in Skyrim. Skjor and Kodlak are both gone by the end of the Companions questline, but after a few more days of gameplay Skjor decided to hang around the main hall again, calling me a whelp and regularly asking for his shield to be checked - although now I was his harbinger. Well, being undead and having to catch up with all the new rumors and events must be tough.
I noticed that Kodlak was still gone, though, and figured it could be interesting to write about this non-canon experience from my character's point of view.
I've used one of my illustrations as the thumbnail for this story!* Check my other paintings, doodles and fanarts at AneDrawsThings on Facebook.
gaia_diamond
Skjor's raspy voice greeted me as I stepped into the halls. Farkas and Vilkas stood beside him and were as amused as myself.
The man breathed heavily and had a mixture of dirt and dried blood over his armor and skin.
"But you..." I babbled, "the Silver Hands kil... AELA? COME HERE NOW."
The wolf man seemed confused and looked around, searching for something while criticizing "how helpless all whelps around here are."
The heavy doors from Jorvaskarr's main hall opened with a slow creak, and I heard Aela's voice fill the halls as she emerged from the yard. She called out for the wolf man.
Her eyes scanned our visitor as I was struck by a new thought: If Skjor (or someone, or something, that claims to be Skjor) is back... Then maybe we would be able to see Kodlak again… And perhaps save his soul from Hircine.
While finishing those thoughts, my legs started rushing towards the living quarters, as I shouted for the companions to try to discover what was going on.
Crossing the corridors took many steps I never bothered to count until now, and I dived into the doors at the end of the passage reminding myself to be gentle - but ending up slamming the wood with my shoulder plates. The empty room struck me worse than I struck the door.
The hopes of granting our former harbinger his deserved home in Sovngarde vanished. Dead werewolves are claimed by the daedra Hircine to join him in the Hunting Grounds, which consists in a completely different afterlife from Sovngarde. The glory of joining others in an unending hunt may be wished upon for some, but not for Kodlak.
I contemplated the stupidity of my deductions while silently gathering supplies from the rooms, and the weight over my shoulders pinched and sank at each step taken back to the halls. I still couldn't find a way to save the old wolf, but Skjor's return should still be dealt with.
The companion's voices echoed again, as they were trying to put some sense into the new situation. Aela made Skjor sit - while doing her best to control her own emotions, I noticed. The wolf man didn't seem to be in his full reasoning capacities, and was asking around to have his shield checked – although his hands were empty. Vilkas was awkwardly balancing a tower of books containing undead lore and curses on his arms, Farkas fetched mead and bread for Skjor, in case he was hungry. Ria and Torvar started consulting the books Vilkas piled over the tables.
I glanced at Wuuthard and felt the beast within growl. The Silver Hands would pay for their deaths, and now they would pay for our recurring grief and confusion. Farkas came over, two sweetrolls stuffed inside his mouth.
"Good news, it seems like Skjor survived," he munched.
"Oh. Is that so, ice-brains?" snapped Aela.
"I mean he is not a living dead."
"What is going on?" I asked.
"When we couldn't retrieve his body, the Silver Hands dumped him into a pit. There was some spirit left in the hound though, and he ran off as a werewolf. This is all we could extract from him so far." explained Vilkas
"I'm starving! Fetch me more mead and cheese, whelp!" Skjor roared to me, and I complied. He was at the brink of exhaustion, and possibly roamed all alone through Skyrim's savagery before returning home. It didn't seem right to argue now.
"...We are glad to have you back, you filthy beast," I jested, handling him more food. He caught my eyes for a small moment, a thankful glimpse on his deep expression lines. "Good job everyone. Aela, guys, please take good care of him while we're off. Farkas, we have vampires to slay."
"Sounds good to me," he consented, stuffing an entire cream crème tart inside his mouth before we left. "It is too cold out there now, I'll need more sugar."
It hit me how proud I felt about the Companions. Those weren't the whelps Skjor mentioned anymore. He would be pleased to return to his full senses and see what we became.
They were my pack.